


Gertrude’s Last Stand

by NB_Cecil



Series: Chulu Porn [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!, Alcohol, Also Good Coffee, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anal Fingering, Awkward Bed-Sharing, Awkward Boners, Bad Coffee, Best Friends, Big Grown-Up Conversations, Binder-related disaster, Bisexual!Pavel Chekov, Biting, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Chekov’s Family Make Assumptions, Chekov’s Pink Cardigan and Peter Pan Collar Shirt from Star Trek: III, Clothed Sex, Conversation About Boundaries and Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Culture Shock, Dirty Talk, Disaster Bisexual Chekov, Drunk Sex, Dumpster Diving/Freeganism, Dysfunctional But Loving Family, Encounter with Law Enforcement, Encounter with Wildlife, Explicit Consent, Fashion Disaster Chekov, First Kiss, Food, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Frottage, Gay!Hikaru Sulu, Gertrude is the Name of Sulu’s Car, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sex Work, Implied/Referenced Sexual Trauma, It’s My AU and I’ll Write What I Please, Language Barrier, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Making Out While Hung Over, Marriage equality is a thing everywhere in 2004 in this Universe, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, No Homophobia Biphobia or Transphobia Happens Just Two Queers Working Shit Out, No penetrative sex, No racism in this universe either, Nonbinary Character, POV Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov’s Large and Exuberant Family, Peugeot 205, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Sack of Wet Eggs, Sex in a Car, Shower Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Slow Romance, Social Class/Income Differences, Spooning, State and Institutional Queerphobic Violence is Not a Thing in this Universe, Stylish Sulu, Sulu’s Iconic Brown Cape from Star Trek: III, Trans Male Character, Trans!Pavel Chekov, Tropes, Tulse Hill Gyratory, Wolverhampton Wanders are a Football Team btw, Yes Really Terrible Music, terrible music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: It’s 2004 and student “best friends” (heavy quotes) Pavel and Hikaru are driving a twenty-year-old red Peugeot 205 from London to Moscow.
Relationships: Pavel Chekov/Hikaru Sulu
Series: Chulu Porn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954489
Comments: 42
Kudos: 9





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, hello! Welcome to this fic. Everything’s drafted and my long-suffering spouse is beta reading it for me (thank you, love), so I _should_ be updating every couple of days. Comments and kudos are always welcome. I’d love to hear your theories about where the story might be going, etc.. Please don’t be shy! And don’t forget to hit ‘subscribe’. Heed the tags and enjoy the ride!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes set off on their adventure, bright-eyed and optimistic, but they soon hit trouble. On this first leg of their journey we meet the Red Army Choir and a highly questionable sandwich, and our intrepid travellers make it as far as Dover.

**Day 1: London to Calais... No, Make that London to Dover**

Hikaru heaved the last suitcase into the boot of his ancient red Peugeot 205 and slammed it shut. He crossed the pavement to the open front door of the low-rise block of flats he’d called home for the last two years. “Pav? You ready?” He yelled up the stairs.  
His best friend and flatmate stuck his head out of the first floor kitchen window. “I’m just making sandwiches then I’ll be down,” he called.  
“Alright.” Hikaru went back to the car, got in the driver’s seat and sat waiting with the door open. He ran his hand idly across the dashboard. “One last road trip, Gertrude,” he murmured quietly. He had intended to sell the twenty-year-old car for scrap and put the cash toward his plane ticket home to San Francisco now that his studies in London were over, but when he’d mentioned to Pavel his intention to get rid of Gertrude, the Russian had jokingly suggested Hikaru drive him home to Moscow before scrapping the old banger. That was three weeks ago, and now here they were actually doing this wild thing they’d been joking about. Hikaru shook his head at his own foolishness.  
Pavel bounded down the stairs with a small rucksack slung over his shoulder. He skipped round to the passenger door. It opened with a painful creaking sound. He stuffed his bag into the footwell and closed the door. “Let’s go!” He said, bouncing a little in his seat.  
Hikaru closed the driver side door and started the engine. For once, Gertrude started on the first try. They gave their old flat a wave goodbye and set off.

They hit traffic on the South Circular, ten minutes into the journey. Pavel rummaged in his bag while they waited at a red light at the Tulse Hill gyratory, and produced a cassette with a triumphant flourish. “I made a mixtape,” he announced, grinning.  
“Great, put it on.” Hikaru hoped for something upbeat to ease the frustration of their stop-start progress.  
Pavel pushed the cassette into the slot on the dash. It clicked on and a gentle hiss of white noise emanated from the speakers, followed by a long unison note, sung by a full choir, crescendoing from nothingness to a volume which rattled the the car’s interior, causing the glove box to fall open.  
“What _is_ this?” Hikaru shouted over the noise.  
Pavel turned the volume down so his reply would be heard. “ _Kalinka_. Red Army Choir.”  
Hikaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friend’s undying love of all things Soviet. He’d learned that Pavel was rather sensitive about it. “Is it all Red Army Choir?” He asked, fearing the answer would be _yes_.  
“Of course! Best music.”  
Hikaru groaned. _Three hours ‘til Dover_ , he reminded himself.

“It’s no good. She’s dead.” Hikaru flicked on the hazard lights, took the key out of the ignition and leaned back in his seat. “At least we got her to the hard shoulder.” They were both less than thrilled about breaking down on the motorway two hours into their journey.  
“I’ll go and find a phone.” Pavel opened his door and got out. Hikaru made to slide across to the passenger side and get out too. “Stay in the car, I’ll be back in a minute,” Pavel said.  
“It’s safer to get out,” Hikaru slung his legs over the gearstick.  
“Pass me my bag,” said Pavel.  
With a little undignified wriggling, Hikaru reached the passenger seat and fished Pavel’s rucksack out of the footwell. He screwed up his face at the distinctly fishy smell which arose from the bag as he picked it up.  
“What the hell did you pack that smells so bad?” He asked, handing the bag over.  
“I don’t know,” Pavel shrugged. “Perhaps it’s the pickled herring.”  
“Herring.” Hikaru stared at him in disbelief.  
“It was the only thing left in the fridge.”  
“Jeez.” Hikaru was having more and more regrets. Perhaps they could get the car fixed and drive home again. Technically, they’d moved out of the flat, but their replacements wouldn’t be moving in until September, and Hikaru found the thought of curling up in the old lumpy bed in his former room very appealing right now.  
They walked the few hundred yards to the emergency phone in silence. It was drizzling and neither of them were wearing anoraks. After they’d got through to the breakdown service, who told them someone would arrive to help them in about an hour, they made their way up the embankment as high as they could and sat down in the wet grass to wait.  
Pavel rummaged in his rucksack and produced two foil-wrapped packages. “Herring sandwich?” He held one out to Hikaru.  
“No,” Hikaru snapped, and instantly regretted it. It wasn’t Pavel’s fault they’d broken down in the rain. “Sorry.” He took the peace offering sandwich and gingerly unwrapped it. He sniffed it cautiously then took a bite. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared.  
Pavel made short work of his own sandwich, balled up the foil and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Karu.” He gave his friend’s knee a playful punch. “We’re having an adventure.”  
“Indeed we are,” Hikaru was forced to agree.  
Pavel started humming _Kalinka_.  
Hikaru grinned fondly. It was exactly what he’d been humming back when Hikaru walked him home the first night they’d met. It had been raining then, too.

It was freshers’ week, September 2001. Hikaru was going into the final year of his BSc and had gone to a club with a couple of friends. He’d met the Russian first-year at the bar, got chatting, and after a few drinks, they were busting moves together on the dance floor. It turned out the seventeen-year-old could _not_ handle his drink, and a couple of hours later, Hikaru found himself half-carrying-half-dragging his new friend along the pavement toward the university halls of residence. They had been firm friends ever since, and often mistaken for a couple, much to their mutual embarrassment. It was true they flirted incessantly, and had moved into a flat-share together at the start of Pavel’s second year and the first year Hikaru’s two-year Masters, but neither had ever worked up the courage to make a move, fearing a romantic involvement might endanger their friendship. And now, here they were, in July 2004, sitting in the rain beside a motorway eating pickled herring sandwiches, and Pavel was humming that exact same tune.

It was late afternoon when they got going again. The breakdown service hadn’t been able to resolve the problem at the roadside, so had had to tow Gertrude to the nearest garage, where a mechanic tutted and sucked her teeth before quoting an amount which cleaned Hikaru’s wallet out completely. They reached the outskirts of Dover at dusk.  
Pavel looked up from the street atlas. “When’s the last ferry?” He asked.  
“Dunno.” Hikaru peered through the rain-smeared windscreen, scanning the road signs for directions to the port.  
“You want to go on tonight, or stop here?”  
Hikaru turned to look at him. “Honestly, I’d like to stop here tonight and crack on early tomorrow. It’s been quite a day.”  
“Alright.” Pavel held the map up to the window to better read it in the glow of the street lights. “If you take the second exit at the next roundabout, that should take us into the town and we can find a bed-and-breakfast or something.”  
“You’ll have to get this one. That repair bill cleaned me out.” Hikaru made an apologetic face in the gloom.  
“Sure.”  
“Thanks.” They were approaching the roundabout. “Did you say second exit?”  
“Yes.” Hikaru manoeuvred to the appropriate lane. “No, first!” Pavel corrected himself too late. The road led into an industrial estate.

After several wrong turns and dead-ends, they found a not-too-expensive car park, grabbed their overnight bags from the back seat, and made for the main drag. It didn’t take them long to find a backpackers’ hostel with an adjacent late-night greasy spoon, and after a meal of fish and chips washed down with mugs of hot, sweet tea, bedded down for the night in a packed dormitory. Despite the noise from the street below and the comings-and-goings of their roommates, they both slept like logs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! If that whetted your appetite and you’re keen to find out how our heroes’ adventure progresses, then mash that ‘subscribe’ button!  
> In the next instalment: bad coffee, Calais, Brussels, a sack of wet eggs, and the first appearance of an obligatory slow-burn romance road trip trope. What more could you possibly wish for?!


	2. Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cracks begin to show as our brave adventurers become fractious and tired. They bicker their way to Brussels, but once they arrive their stay is really quite pleasant.

**Day 2: Dover to Brussels**

Hikaru awoke to the sound of muffled grunting and someone softly calling his name. It was horrifically early. “Pav?” He sat up.  
Pavel was sitting on the opposite bunk, illuminated by the wall-mounted reading light and fighting with something stuck over his head. Hikaru threw back the cover and got out of bed. This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed Pavel having a binder-related disaster. He approached his struggling friend, grabbed the hem of the binder and yanked it firmly down, allowing Pavel to wriggle his head and arms out of the top.  
“Thanks, Karu,” Pavel said quietly, grinning self-consciously, his hair dishevelled from sleep.  
The occupant of a nearby bunk stirred and muttered in their sleep.  
“C’mon. Let’s get dressed and get out of here,” Hikaru whispered.

The queue for the ferry consisted mainly of lorries. Pavel fiddled with the radio, trying to find a station they both liked. They settled on one playing a mix of chart hits and lively presenter chatter, until Hikaru complained there were too many adverts. Pavel went to re-tune it, but the knob came off in his hand, leaving static blaring out of the speakers.  
“Oh well, we still have the Red Army Choir tape.” He beamed at Hikaru.  
Hikaru chewed his lip and stared at the back of the lorry ahead of them, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“This has to be one of the worst coffees I’ve ever had,” said Pavel. He poured more sugar into his cup.  
Hikaru hummed his agreement and pinched sleep from his eyes. He sipped his own dreadful beverage. They were sitting in the ferry’s restaurant area watching the lights of Dover disappear into the dark through a drizzle-streaked window.  
“Don’t forget to drive on the right when we get to France.”  
“Really?” Hikaru banged his cup down on the table, sloshing coffee over the formica. It was quite a patronising thing to say, especially when Pavel didn’t even have a license. “Why don’t _you_ drive us to Moscow, then?”  
“You know I can’t,” Pavel shrugged. “Sorry,” he added. “I was just trying to make conversation. Take our minds off the dishwater coffee.”  
“It’s fine. It’s four-thirty AM. We’re both a bit frazzled.” Hikaru reached across the table and gave his friend’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Pavel squeezed back.

At Calais Hikaru refilled his wallet with a wedge of Euros from the cash machine and they swung by a hypermarket to stock up on snacks. They had a minor disagreement in the fresh produce aisle when Pavel attempted to put a bag of boiled eggs in the trolley.  
“Oh no, not in _my_ car!” Hikaru tried to grab the bag of eggs, but Pavel whipped them away, holding them high above his head, declaring them “Very high in protein.” They tussled, Pavel standing on his tiptoes trying to keep the eggs out of Hikaru’s reach, until Hikaru caught hold the corner of the bag, snatched it away and flung it back on the shelf. “The car still smells of herring,” he said firmly. He grabbed the trolley and pushed it purposefully toward the bottled water. Pavel followed, complaining about the injustice of being denied a sack of wet eggs, but knowing he was beaten.

It took forty-five minutes and a fair amount of bickering for the pair to find their way out of Calais. They were hopelessly lost in a housing estate when Pavel realised he’d been holding the map upside down.  
“Okay, I think we’re here.” He held the map up for Hikaru to see and pointed at a cul-de-sac.  
“Are you sure?” Hikaru jabbed his finger at another part of the map. “We could be here. All these roads look the same.”  
“Yeah, look.” Pavel gestured through the side window. “This is North, right?” He rotated the map to align it with where he’d pointed.  
“The sun’s over there,” Hikaru pointed, “so North is...” He frowned, working it out in his head. “...here.” He twisted round in his seat and pointed out of Gertrude’s rear window.  
“So, we’re... here?”  
“Yeah, I reckon so.”  
“And we need to get here.” Pavel indicated an autoroute junction.  
“Yeah. Which way, navigator?”  
“Turn around.” Pavel said. He frowned at the map. “And then left.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes,” Pavel said confidently.  
This time Pavel was correct, and they joined the autoroute some twenty minutes later.  
Pavel reached out to push the Red Army Choir mixtape into the tape deck.  
“No!” Hikaru slapped his hand over the controls.  
“C’mon! It’s boring without any music,” Pavel protested.  
“Alright. One song.”  
“Thank you.” Pavel pushed the cassette into its slot with a satisfied smile and fast-forwarded it until he found the song he wanted. Hikaru winced when he cranked up the volume.  
“Not _Kalinka_ again?” Hikaru had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise.  
“You can’t have too much of a good song.”  
“Indeed.” Hikaru’s snarky tone was lost on the Russian, who was happily singing along.

“I said _one_ song.” Hikaru pressed the _eject_ button and snatched the cassette from the slot.  
“Just one more?” Pavel asked hopefully.  
“We’ve listened to a whole side.”  
“But I put many excellent songs on the other side.”  
“I will throw this tape out the window.” Hikaru shook the cassette at him. The grin on his face said the threat was empty... mostly.  
“Then we’ll have to drive in silence for the whole week.”  
“That would be preferable. It’ll help me concentrate.” Hikaru dropped the tape into the small well behind the gearstick. “We need some more music.”  
“I’ll pick some tapes up at our next stop.”  
“No, _I’ll_ choose the tapes.”  
Pavel wound down the window and looked out at the passing traffic. “Alright.”

“Ah, shit. We forgot to check out the tapes.”  
The service station where they’d stopped for petrol was thirty miles behind them.  
“Oh well, there’s the Red Army—”  
“ _NO!_ ” Hikaru said firmly.  
Pavel moved his hand surreptitiously toward the cassette lying beside the gearstick. Hikaru shot him a glare then fixed his eyes back on the road. “Did you _have_ to break the radio?” He lamented.  
Pavel threw up his hands in protest. “I didn’t break it! It just broke by itself.”  
“Just be more gentle with Gertrude in future, please.”  
“Okay, okay.” Pavel patted the glove box in the hope of placating both Hikaru and the car.  
They drove the next fifty miles in near-silence.

They arrived in Brussels just after midday, picked out some items from their hypermarket haul for lunch and ate it on a bench in the Parc du Cinquantenaire, then found a budget hotel on a quiet backstreet. The desk clerk informed them that their room wouldn’t be ready for a couple of hours, so they set out to do a bit of sightseeing.  
They killed an hour in the Museum of Fine Arts. Neither were especially interested in the displays, but the company was pleasant. Pavel slipped his arm through Hikaru’s as they wandered through a gallery. “Look, Karu.” He pointed at a portrait of a stuffy-looking military general in an ornate gold frame. “That one looks like you.”  
Hikaru looked. It really didn’t, but he smiled and gave a noncommittal nod anyway. “If you say so,” he said. Sometimes his friend came out with the most ridiculous things; it really was quite endearing.  
After the museum they made the obligatory pilgrimage to the Mannekin Pis, fighting their way through the throngs of tourists to get a look.  
“It’s smaller than I thought it would be.” Pavel remarked.  
Hikaru shrugged. “It’s a bit anticlimactic, really.”  
“You know what else Belgium is famous for?”  
“What?”  
“Chocolate.”  
“And it’s expensive.”  
“We can’t come here and leave without at least trying some. C’mon, I’ll pay.” Pavel pulled on his arm and Hikaru allowed himself to be led down the street to a branch of _Leonidas_.

It was gone nine o’clock when they got back to the hotel. After the chocolatier they’d mooched round the Anspach Shopping Centre and stopped in one of its many coffee shops. “This is a better coffee than the one on the ferry.” Pavel had said. Hikaru had agreed—it was definitely up there with some of the best coffees he’d drunk recently. Then they’d found a quiet bistro for dinner.  
“Uh-oh,” Hikaru said as he put his head round the door. “It’s a double bed.”  
“People always think we’re a couple. It’s annoying,” Pavel complained as he followed him into the room. He dropped his rucksack on the desk, plopped down on the bed and looked around. The room was small but clean and recently decorated. The faint smell of paint still hung in the air.  
“I’m taking this side.” Hikaru walked round to the window side of the bed and dumped his bag on it.  
“Fine with me.” Pavel lent forward and pulled his shoes off.

They busied themselves with settling in, taking turns to shower off the dirt of the day in the tiny en-suite. Hikaru made himself a mug of tea from the tiny hotel room kettle and sat sipping it on the foot of the bed while he waited for Pavel to finish in the bathroom. Once ready to sleep, they lay very carefully, each on their own side of the bed—Hikaru in his usual pyjama bottoms, but with the addition of a t-shirt for the sake of both their comfort; and Pavel wearing boxers and a tank top—both mindful of leaving a gap of empty mattress between them. They chatted for a while before Pavel switched the light off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next instalment, in which our heroic protagonists attempt to have croissants for breakfast and make new friends in Berlin. Will they ever get that radio fixed? Will Hikaru break down sobbing during the 100th repetition of _Kalinka_? Will they be forced to endure more bad coffee? Answers to all these burning questions and more will be revealed in future chapters, so mash that ‘subscribe’ button, folks!
> 
> Comments are always welcome. Gimme your crackiest headcanons for these AU versions of Sulu and Chekov; ask me (respectful) questions—I will do my best to supply non-spoilery answers; or speculate on the nature of the misfortunes I’ll be subjecting them to in future chapters. Don’t be shy!


	3. Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our brave heroes press onto Berlin, where they make new friends. Pavel is still somewhat bitter about the eggs and Gertrude continues her slow, graceful decay.

**Day 3: Brussels to Berlin**

Something was tickling Hikaru’s nose. He cracked his eyes open to find Pavel curled against his chest, snoring quietly, face pressed into the hollow of his neck. Hikaru turned away to avoid being tickled more by Pavel’s hair and realised with a sinking feeling that his morning hard-on was pressing into his friend’s thigh. He tried to wriggle away without waking him, but the movement caused Pavel to stir and blink sleepily at him.  
“Morning.” Hikaru brushed Pavel’s hair out of his face. He looked so soft in his just-woken state that Hikaru felt an overwhelming desire to kiss him—just a light brush of lips against lips—but he pushed the thought quickly away, threw back the cover, and got out of bed.

It didn’t take long to gather their belongings and check out of the hotel. They stopped at a patisserie on the walk to the car and picked up breakfast, intending to drive for an hour or so before the rush hour fully kicked in, and then stop to eat.  
Hikaru put the bag of croissants down on the roof of the car while he fished in his pocket for his keys. “Hi, Gertrude. You sleep ok?” He said as he unlocked the driver side door.  
“You’re going to cry when you send her for scrap,” said Pavel.  
“I’ll bawl my eyes out.”  
Something caught Hikaru’s eye in the rear view mirror as he reversed out of the parking space. _Probably a bird_ , he thought.

They turned off the autoroute when the traffic got heavy and found a lay-by with a couple of picnic benches. Hikaru walked a few feet to the bushes at the side of the road to relieve himself while Pavel rummaged in the car.  
“Karu, where’s the food?” He called.  
Hikaru tucked himself away and came back over to the car. “It’s... Ah!” He brought his hand to his forehead as the realisation hit him. “I think I left it on the roof of the car.”  
“No! Our croissants!” Pavel wailed. He fished a couple of cereal bars and a packet of dried fruit out of one of the hypermarket bags as a substitute breakfast.  
“Sorry,” Hikaru said sheepishly.  
“If only you’d let me buy that bag of eggs.” Pavel grinned.  
“I’m so glad I didn’t.”

It was early evening when they turned off the autoroute and began making their through Berlin’s sprawling suburbs, keeping their eyes peeled for an affordable-looking hotel or hostel. Pavel spotted the trio of hitchhikers thumbing at the side of the road. “We should stop,” he said.  
Hikaru’s gut reaction was to drive on by, but seeing as they _were_ on an adventure, he flipped on the indicator and pulled over. Pavel got out to clear their belongings off the backseat and the hitchhikers piled in.  
“I’m Pav, he’s Karu,” Pavel said to their passengers.  
Hikaru twisted round in his seat and waved. “Hi.”  
Hi, I’m Karl.”  
“Jan.”  
“Petra”  
“Are you going near Friedrichshain?” Jan asked.  
“If you give us directions, then yes,” Hikaru replied.  
By the time they pulled up outside the condemned high rise the hitchhikers called home, an offer had been made—and accepted—of a sofa or the night.  
Enlivened by the conversation with their new friends, Pavel threw the passenger side door open with exuberance. It swung back to the full extent its rusty hinges would allow and, with a crunch which made Hikaru wince, the top hinge gave way. Pavel turned to his friend to apologise, but was cut off before he could get a word out.  
“Just get out and close the door carefully. _Please_ ,” Hikaru implored.

“Most of the flats are empty. There are about twenty of us living on the seventh and eighth floors,” Petra explained as she unlocked the padlocked security gate. “The lifts are broken,” she added, striding toward the stairwell.  
Petra and Jan took the stairs two-at-a-time and didn’t slow as the climb progressed. Karl hung back with their guests. Even though he worked out regularly, Hikaru had worked up a sweat by the time they reached the fourth floor landing. Pavel, who would be the first to admit he wasn’t in great shape, leaned on the bannister, panting.  
Karl gave him an encouraging slap on the back. “Just three more floors to go!”  
Pavel groaned and set off up the next flight.

When they finally made it to the front door of the one-bedroom flat they were greeted by the sound of a boiling kettle.  
Petra was leaning on the doorpost. “Tea?” She offered.  
“Please,” Hikaru replied.  
Karl led the guests through to the living room, where Jan lounged on a saggy old sofa, rolling a joint.  
“Which tea do you want?” Petra called from the kitchen.  
Hikaru looked at Pavel, who shrugged. “Anything?”  
“Anything,” Pavel agreed.  
“Surprise us,” Hikaru shouted in the direction of the kitchen.  
Karl gestured to a second sofa—in slightly worse shape than the one Jan occupied—inviting them to sit, and settled himself on the floor between Jan’s feet. Jan ruffled his hair and murmured something in German. He sparked up the joint.  
Petra bustled in with a large, ugly hand-painted teapot, four chipped mugs, and a bowl balanced on a try. She set it down in the middle of the floor and poured the tea. It was peppermint. “You get the bowl,” she said to Karl, and—turning to the guests—added, “we only have four mugs.”  
Once the tea was poured and everyone held a steaming mug or bowl, Petra plopped down in the vacant space on the sofa beside Jan. She kissed his cheek and pulled her feet up under her. Jan passed the joint over to Pavel. 

The conversation flowed as the joint went round and everyone mellowed. Hikaru found their new friends easy to talk to. It transpired that Jan had been a mixed martial arts champion in his teens, and he and Hikaru fell quickly into an intense discussion comparing MMA with Hikaru’s preferred sport, fencing. Karl strummed a guitar and Petra hummed quietly. Hikaru didn’t know the song, but he was just grateful it wasn’t _Kalinka_. Pavel sat in contented silence, listening to the conversation and music.  
When the munchies hit, Hikaru pulled a packet of biscuits out of his bag and passed them round. Karl volunteered to go out and fetch pizza. Pavel went with him and they returned a half hour later with a stack of pizza boxes and a carrier bag-full of lager.

It was very late when they turned in for the night. Karl disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a couple of crochet blankets and pillows. Jan and Petra fussed with the sofas and apologised about the lack of a spare bed. Pavel assured them it was “Fine, really. Sofa looks very comfy.” The two travellers were both so tired, drunk and stoned they fell asleep almost as soon as they’d made themselves comfy on their respective sofas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to milk the _And there was only one bed!_ trope and force our heroes to share a sofa, but I decided that was too much. If you think I’ve missed a golden opportunity then please do let me know in the comments (dw, I’m not done with that trope yet).
> 
> Exactly how rough will our intrepid duo feel in the morning? Do they ever get to listen to a cassette of something other than the Red Army Choir? Will they actually get to eat some croissants? Stay tuned to find out in the thrilling next instalment!


	4. Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru and Pavel spend a day in Berlin getting to know their new friends and acquire some new cassettes.

**Day 4: Berlin**

Hikaru woke with a mild headache and the sun streaming through the curtainless window onto his face. He licked his parched lips and sat up, wincing at a sharp stab of pain in his neck. Sleeping with his head propped on the arm of the sofa had done him no favours. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing to smile down at his friend lying curled in the foetal position on the other sofa, who murmured and fidgeted as he slept. Hikaru thought he caught the words “wet eggs” in among Pavel’s nonsensical mumbling.  
The tap over the kitchen sink sputtered and emitted a series of loud _clunk_ s before disgorging a thin brown trickle. _The water’s cut off_ , Hikaru realised. He set the mug back down on the draining board and cast his eye around for any sort of non-alcohol drink. He didn’t see anything out in obvious view and was reluctant to rummage through his host’s cupboards. He helped himself to a cold slice of last night’s pizza from a box on the counter and sat down at the small table.  
Jan wandered in a few minutes later, yawning and running his hand through his hair. “Coffee?” He offered.  
“I could really do with some water.”  
“There’s bottled water under the sink.”  
Ten minutes later Jan retreated back to the bedroom, having downed an espresso shot, and Hikaru returned to the living room clutching a mug of strong, black coffee in one hand and a two-litre bottle of water in the other. Pavel was awake, and sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest at one end of his sofa. Hikaru sat down beside him and greeted him with a “Hey, Pav,” and a light brush of fingertips against his thigh.  
“Is that coffee?” Pavel eyed the cup keenly.  
“Yeah. There’s a pot in the kitchen.”  
Pavel heaved himself off the sofa, yawned and stretched, and went to fetch some for himself.

The other occupants of the squat emerged from the bedroom in dribs and drabs throughout the morning. Between the five of them, they made short work of the remains of the pizza, and got through several more pots of coffee. They whiled away the afternoon playing _Settlers of Catan_ , and the guests recounted their highlights of their road trip thus far. When Hikaru bemoaned the broken radio and the single Red Army Choir mixtape—Pavel gave a valiant speech in its defence—Petra got up to rummage through a box in the corner of the room. She pulled out an armful of cassettes and dropped them on the floor at Hikaru’s feet, saying “Karl pulled these out of a skip last week. No idea what’s on them, but it has to be better than the Red Army Choir, right?” 

At dusk they walked a few blocks to a small parade of shops, which—Jan explained—threw out the best food in the area each day at closing time, and never locked their bins. They had to climb over a head-high gate to get into the bin enclosure.  
“We want stuff that’s sealed. And no meat. That’s guaranteed food poisoning,” said Petra.  
They filled several tote bags with dented soup cans, expired ramen packs, and an assortment of bruised fruit and veg from a pallet outside the back of an organic greengrocer. When Hikaru went to grab the last few carrots, Karl put a hand on his arm. “First rule of skipping: leave some for others,” he said. 

Back at the squat, Jan took charge of turning their haul into a meal, delegating the sorting, washing, peeling and chopping of the veg and other tasks among the group. Within a hour they were sitting down to plates of tinned soup-and-vegetable stew with a side of noodles. They ate sitting on the living room floor. Pavel and Hikaru sat back-to-back, leaning against each other.

Hikaru set his empty plate aside. “Pav?” He said.   
“Yeah?”  
“Thanks.”  
“What for?”  
“For this. This whole thing was your idea, and it’s been...” Hikaru trailed off, searching for the right words. “...It’s been nice,” he finished.  
Pavel reached back and fumbled for Hikaru’s hand. When he found it he gave it a squeeze. “You’re welcome.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what is on those cassettes Petra so generously gifted to our fearless adventurers? Will Pavel remember the passenger side door is broken, or will he forget and yank it off its hinges completely? Will I recycle the _and there was only one bed!_ trope or is once enough? And will Pavel ever shut up about that sack of wet eggs? Stay tuned for the next instalment...


	5. Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our wayfaring companions push onto Warsaw where their accommodation forces another moment of intimacy.

**Day 5: Berlin to Warsaw**

“ _Don’t!_ ” Pavel froze with his hand on the passenger door handle. He gave Hikaru a quizzical look over the top of the car. “It’s broken, remember?”  
“Ah, yeah.”  
”You’ll have to get in this side.”  
Pavel walked round to the other side of car where Hikaru opened the driver-side door for him. He got in, sat in the driver seat and considered his options. One leg across at a time or both together? Or perhaps it would be better to pull himself over with his hands? He went with both-feet-at-once and narrowly avoided crotching himself on the gearstick. Hikaru tried to hide his smirk. Once Pavel was ensconced in the passenger side, Hikaru slid in and put the key in the ignition. He adjusted the rear-view mirror, started the car, and waved goodbye to Petra, Jan and Karl, who were hanging off their cramped balcony to see them off.  
Pavel sifted through the pile of cassettes Petra had gifted them. There was nothing printed or written on them to indicate what they might contain. He shrugged and pushed on into the tape deck. A loud electronic screeching emanated from the car’s speakers, sounding as if some vital part of Gertrude’s transmission had just met its maker.  
Hikaru slammed on the brakes halfway through manoeuvring out of the parking space. “Jesus. What is that?” He shouted over the din.  
“I don’t know,” Pavel shouted back. He pressed the _fast forward_ button, turned down the volume, then played the tape again. Their ears were assaulted again, albeit at a quieter volume. “I’ll try another one.”  
“Please do.”  
Pavel ejected the cassette.  
The second cassette they tried started with the same screeching as the first. As did the third, the fourth, and the fifth.  
“We have five copies of the same free noise album,” Pavel said. He slung the tapes into the glove box.  
“I prefer the Red Army Choir,” Hikaru admitted.  
“I never thought I’d hear you say it.” Pavel beamed at him.

They stopped for lunch at a roadside fast food van, perching on the boot of the car to eat satisfyingly greasy burgers washed down with swigs from a shared bottle of _Fanta_. Hikaru tossed all but one of the new tapes into the bin along with his food wrapper. He stuffed the remaining tape in an pocket on his bag, intending to keep it for posterity.  
Once they’d re-joined the autobahn Pavel held up the Red Army Choir cassette and said, “How about some decent music?”  
Hikaru scowled, but didn’t nothing to stop him inserting it into the tape deck.  
Twenty minutes later Pavel was out for the count, his head lolling against the window. Hikaru turned the stereo’s volume down low so that any sudden changes of dynamic in the music wouldn’t startle him awake. When the tape ran out he flipped it over to the next side.

Hikaru was dog-tired when they made it to Warsaw; the long days of driving were catching up with him. They stopped at an Internet cafe and sipped lukewarm mediocre lattes while Pavel scrolled through hotel listings. Hikaru peered over his shoulder. He pointed at the screen.  
“That one?” The price was good and judging by the thumbnail photo it looked alright.  
Pavel clicked on the listing and entered his card details.

Although conveniently situated not too far from the highway heading northeast out of Warsaw, the hotel turned out to be a dump. Hikaru glanced around nervously as they walked through a maze of narrow corridors to their room.  
“You alright?” Pavel asked, still cheerful in spite of their grim surroundings.  
Hikaru stepped carefully over a lump in the threadbare carpet. “It doesn’t feel very safe.” A dull thud and muffled shouts from behind a door confirmed his feeling of unease.  
Pavel put a reassuring hand on his friend’s arm. “Look, we’ll just go into the room, lock the door and stay there until the morning, and it’ll be fine. Okay?”  
Hikaru gave a noncommittal hum.

Hikaru gingerly touched the brownish stain on the duvet cover. It was wet. He looked up at the ceiling where a large damp patch loomed over the bed, the sag in the paper corresponding to the stain on the duvet.  
“We can share this one.” Pavel patted the headboard of the second narrow single bed. “If we squash up then we’ll both fit.”

They lay awkwardly side-by-side, both on their backs, staring up at the mouldy ceiling, trying—and failing—not to touch each other.  
“This place is a shit-hole,” Pavel said.  
“Yes,” Hikaru agreed.  
“Worse than that bedsit in Kilburn.”  
“Far worse.” Hikaru recalled the window-less box he’d lived in for two whole years before he and Pavel had moved into the flat-share. It was infested with mice, but at least the neighbours had been pleasant.  
They lay in silence for a few seconds, listening to the sounds of fighting and breaking glass coming from the street below.  
“Karu?” Pavel broke the silence. He rolled onto his side and reached out tentatively to touch Hikaru’s shoulder.  
“Mmm?”  
“Can I have a hug?”  
“Sure.”  
Hikaru slid his arm under Pavel and pulled him closer. Pavel fidgeted, searching for a comfortable position to lie in, eventually settling with his head propped on the other man’s shoulder. He ran his finger along the cracked print on Hikaru’s T-shirt. Hikaru pressed his face against the top of Pavel’s head, closed his eyes and took a deep breath of scent of his best friend’s shampoo.  
“What will you do when you get home?” Pavel asked.  
“Get a job, I guess.” Hikaru replied. “I mean, I don’t know where someone with two degrees in plant biology starts looking for a job in San Fran, but something’ll probably come up,” he added.  
“Where will you live?”  
Hikaru sighed. “ _Not_ with my parents. A few weeks is okay and I love them dearly, but I don’t want to move in permanently. Hopefully I can get something that pays enough for me to afford a place of my own.”  
”You’ll get a nice little flat,” said Pavel.  
“Yeah. On a quiet street. And I’ll have window boxes.”  
“What will you grow?”  
”I dunno... geraniums? Herbs?”  
“Sounds nice.”  
”Yeah. I should book my flight.”  
“Do it when we get to Moscow. My parents won’t mind you staying for a few days.”  
“Alright.”  
Pavel propped himself up on one elbow so he could look properly at Hikaru. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly.  
“Yeah... Yeah, I’m gonna miss you too.”  
After a pause, Pavel said, “We can email though.”  
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”  
Another pause.  
“It won’t be the same.”  
“Oh God, Pav. Come here.” Hikaru’s voice cracked. Fighting back the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, he pulled Pavel down onto his chest and pressed his face into the hollow of his neck. Pavel mumbled something he didn’t quite catch and wrapped his arms around him.  
They lay pressed together in silence for a long time. When Pavel eventually lifted his head and their eyes met, Hikaru could have sworn the Russian’s eyes were wet too, but it could have been a trick of the flickering light cast by the dim bedside lamp. He tried to smile up at his friend, but it turned into an awkward giggle. Pavel frowned. For a long moment, Hikaru wondered if he would bend down and kiss him, but instead he rolled off him and said, “We should go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovely beta reader suggested I add a footnote in the style of those didactic children’s books that have a “words I have learned” footnote. So,
> 
> _Today I learned: Crotching; Ensconced._
> 
> Will our brave protagonists make it out of that hotel with their lives and dignities intact? Will they ever actually talk about their very obvious feelings for each other, or will Hikaru spend his flight home wondering _What if...?_ Will Pavel’s parents have to get their house fumigated after their foolish son and his besotted best friend bring Polish bedbugs into it? Answers to these burning questions and more in future instalments.
> 
> Comments give me life, so don’t be shy <3


	6. Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru and Pavel leave Warsaw and the scuzzy hotel far behind and set out for Riga. Various things happen which I will not spoiler here*, and we learn something about Pavel’s background.
> 
> *Reminder that this fic is rated “explicit” and if that’s not your thing then now’s the time to duck out.

**Day 6: Warsaw to Riga**

The coffee was truly dreadful. Barely warm and so weak Hikaru could hardly taste it. The food on offer at the hotel’s breakfast buffet all looked rather suspicious, as did the other patrons. He and Pavel each took a plate of bread and cheese, figuring those were the items least likely to give them food poisoning. They ate quickly and hurried to reception to check out, both keen to get on the road and leave the place far behind.  
In the basement car park Hikaru complained that his clothes smelled of mildew. Pavel retorted that he was just grateful they didn’t get stabbed and that the ceiling didn’t fall down on them in the night. It took several tries to get the car started, with Hikaru talking gently to her each time he turned the key in the ignition. “C’mon, Gertrude. Do you _really_ want to die in this hell-hole?” He coaxed.

They drove most of the morning in silence, each deep in their own thoughts, reflecting on the events of the night before, and feeling somewhat awkward about having woken up with their limbs tangled together. Hikaru rehearsed conversations in his mind as he drove.  
_”Um, Pav? About last night?”_  
_”Yeah?”_  
_”It was nice. Y’know, cuddling and stuff.”_  
_”Yeah.”_  
_”I thought perhaps you were going to kiss me. Y’know when—”_  
_Yeah, I should have.”_  
But every time he looked over at Pavel all the words he planned to say disappeared and his mind went blank, so turned his eyes back to the road. Eventually he put the Red Army Choir tape on just to break the silence.

It was eleven AM. Hikaru leaned against the closed car door, shielding his eyes from the bright sun while he waited for Pavel to emerge from the bushes. They had not long crossed the border into Lithuania when Pavel had complained of needing to pee, urgently, and they’d pulled over on the roadside.  
“Hey,” he said as Pavel approached.  
“Hey.” Pavel gestured for him to move away from the door so he could get in.  
Hikaru stayed put and took a deep breath, steeling himself. “About last night,” he said.  
“Mmm.” Pavel stared down at his feet, scraping one toe of his trainer along the ground.  
Hikaru pushed off from the car and took a step closer. “I really wanted you to kiss me and you didn’t, so I’m—I’m going to ask if I can kiss you now?” The words came out quickly.  
“Oh.” Pavel looked up, the colour rising in his cheeks. “Um, yeah. Please. Yeah, that’d be nice. Yeah—”  
Hikaru closed the gap between them and put his hands gently on Pavel’s arms. “You’re rambling.”  
“Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”  
“Shh.”  
Pavel closed his mouth abruptly. He tilted his head a little to the side as Hikaru leaned forward to press his lips quickly and gently to Pavel’s. Hikaru pulled back to assess his friend’s reaction, but Pavel returned the kiss, a little longer and more firmly, before he had chance to get a proper look at him.  
“Pav—”  
Pavel was kissing him again before he got the rest of the sentence out. Hikaru kissed him back eagerly, opening his mouth slightly and running his tongue along Pavel’s lower lip. Pavel had his hands on his hips now, guiding him, pressing forward as he backed him toward the car. Hikaru grunted against his mouth as Pavel manoeuvred them round so that Pavel was leaning against the car. He pulled Hikaru toward him.  
“Mmm, you’re—” Pavel started, but it was Hikaru’s turn to cut his friend off with a kiss, his hand sliding up the back of Pavel’s neck so that he could thread his fingers through his thick hair.  
They made out at the side of the road like a couple of teenagers until eventually Hikaru reluctantly pulled away. “We should get going.”  
“No—yeah. Yeah, we should.”  
Hikaru gave him one last, quick kiss then stepped away so Pavel could open the door and do his awkward shuffle across from the drivers’ seat to the passenger side. He’d become quite slick at it, Hikaru noticed.  
“How far to Riga?”  
Pavel consulted the map. “We’re about halfway, so maybe four, five hours?” He estimated.  
“Okay.” Hikaru put both hands on the steering wheel, took a deep breath and pushed himself back as far as he could in his seat, stretching his arms out, readying himself for the drive ahead. He started the ignition. Now she was warmed up Gertrude started on the first try. “Good girl,” he said, patting the wheel.

“What do you want to do in Riga?” Pavel asked once they were on their way again.  
“Sleep somewhere that doesn’t smell like it’s going to give me an asthma attack.” Beyond that, Hikaru really didn’t care.  
“We should get a nice hotel.”  
“Mmm,” Hikaru frowned. He was thinking about the fast-dwindling funds in his bank account, and he needed to keep enough for his plane ticket.  
“And we could go out! Riga has good clubs. We haven’t been dancing for ages! And—”  
“Pav!” Hikaru interrupted him.  
Pavel turned to his friend and saw the look on his face. “You’re worried about money?” Hikaru nodded. “I can call Papa. I don’t like sponging off him, but if I ask him to transfer some money we can get a nice hotel. Like a _really_ nice one. And we can go out for dinner.”  
“ _I_ don’t want to sponge off your dad either.”  
Pavel waved a hand dismissively. “He has plenty of money. He’s always trying to buy stuff for me. He’ll be pleased if I actually ask for something.”  
Okay...” Hikaru was reluctantly coming round to the idea.  
“Plus it’s... Well, it’ll be one of the last nights we have together, and I want to make it a good one.”

Late that afternoon Hikaru stood beside a phone booth listening to Pavel speaking very fast Russian. For the entire duration of the five minute call he didn’t seem to pause once to let the person on the other end get a word in. He hung up and turned to Hikaru, a wide grin on his face. “Now we go and find a very nice hotel!” He said triumphantly. Hikaru caught his hand and laced their fingers together as they walked back to the car.

They did indeed find a very nice hotel: a boutique place in a posh part of the city. Pavel spent a considerable amount of time chatting to the concierge, getting recommendations for restaurants and nightclubs. A change had come over him, Hikaru noticed. Subtle, but different nonetheless. He’d always thought of his friend as someone not quite comfortable in his surroundings, unsure of what to do in social situations, but it was like he’d grown more confident as they walked through the hotel’s doors. Pavel had seemed to grow an inch in height. He smiled and nodded to the porter with an easiness Hikaru had never seen on him before. It was money, Hikaru realised. A little bit of manners and having the right tone of voice and body language, but mostly it was money. Pavel had it in spades—it was dawning on Hikaru just how big those spades were—and all they cared about here was if the customers could pay top whack and refrain from doing anything to upset the other guests.  
“You like French? He says this place is very good.”  
Hikaru’s head jerked up in surprise. He realised Pavel was talking to him, gesturing a computer screen the concierge had turned so that it faced the guests.  
“What? Yeah, that looks good.” Hikaru hoped his response had been appropriate to whatever the question was.  
“Or sushi?”  
“Whatever you like.”  
“Okay,” Pavel turned back to the concierge. “Give me the addresses for both.”  
The concierge turned his screen back copied down the details onto a slip of paper. When he slid it across the desk Pavel slid back a sizeable tip in exchange.

Once they were safely ensconced in their room and Hikaru had a chance to stop worrying about how out-of-place he felt and actually think about what he wanted to eat they had a quick discussion and opted for sushi. Hikaru took a long shower, relieved to finally get rid of the damp smell that had been clinging to his body all day. Before they’d left the car he’d rummaged through one of his suitcases and pulled out a pair of chinos, a half-decent shirt, and his well-worn and much-loved brown leather cape.  
“Now, _that’s_ cute,” Pavel said once they were dressed and ready to leave. He looked Hikaru up-and-down approvingly. Pavel wore the same jeans, button-down shirt, and beaten-up leather jacket Hikaru had seen him in a million times before.  
“You like it?” Hikaru grinned and stepped in for a kiss.  
“I do,” Pavel murmured against his lips.  
Hikaru pulled away. “C’mon. Let’s get food,” he said.

The food was good. _Really_ good. And the lighting was low in the quiet little restaurant; the music soft. Hikaru sipped his wine. That was also good. He tried not to think about the prices on the menu. Pavel smiled across the table at him, eyes sparkling in the candlelight. That was good too. That was the best bit about this whole situation. At least, it was from Hikaru’s point-of-view.  
“I’m very glad we did this. This whole drive, y’know?” Pavel said.  
Hikaru nodded his agreement.  
“Because now we’re having dinner like it’s a proper date and that might not have happened if we had just both flown home from London.”  
Hikaru’s heart lurched at the possibility of them having gone their separate ways without at least sharing that roadside kiss this afternoon. “This doesn’t feel like a date,” he said.  
“It is a date. But also you’re my best friend, so yeah.”

They ate, chatted, finished the wine and ordered another bottle. It was gone eleven PM when they left the restaurant, both a little drunk, leaning on each other for support.  
“Dancing?” Hikaru said.  
“Yes!” Pavel enthused. “Dancing!” He skipped ahead a little along the pavement.  
“Hey, wait!” Hikaru hurried to catch up.

The concierge had been spot-on with his recommendation for a club, too. The club closed very late—or very early, depending on how you look at it—and they spilled out onto the pavement, drunk and tired. Hikaru flagged down a taxi. Pavel caught him round the waist just as he was getting into the cab and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek.  
“Hey, c’mon. Save it for the hotel,” Hikaru admonished him, thinking of sparing the driver from having to witness their drunken back-seat antics.

Hikaru nearly tripped over his own feet on his way into the room. Pavel caught his arm and Hikaru staggered against him, giggling. The door swung closed behind them and Hikaru allowed himself to be pushed back against the wall. “I’m incredibly drunk,” he said apologetically.  
“So am I.” Pavel kissed him hungrily.  
They made their way over to the bed, kissing and divesting each other of their clothing as they went, until they sat, panting slightly and grinning at each other on the edge of the mattress, Hikaru shirtless and Pavel stripped down to his binder. Pavel made a lunge for his friend and tried to push him down onto the bed.  
“Lemme take my shoes off,” Hikaru protested, pushing him away.  
Pavel toed off his own shoes while he waited for Hikaru to unlace his.  
“Trousers?” Hikaru looked up at Pavel, hand on his belt buckle.  
“Off.” Pavel unbuttoned his own jeans and slipped them off too.  
“Now,” Hikaru said, once they were both in just their underwear, “you can show me what you like.” He pushed Pavel gently back onto the bed and kissed him tenderly.  
“Mmm, I like this. I like kissing you.” Pavel smiled up at him.  
“I think we’ve established that.” Hikaru pressed kisses to his cheek and neck.  
“Can we just cuddle for a bit?”  
“Sure. You wanna kiss too, or not?”  
“Kissing’s nice.”  
So they kissed while longer and Hikaru ran his fingers through Pavel’s hair—he could get used to this, he thought. _It would be nice to wake up each morning and stroke his hair, and_ —But he was getting ahead of himself. Pavel’s hands wandered up and down his bare back, fingers pressing against vertebrae and ribs. Hikaru squirmed a little when Pavel accidentally tickled him. “Touch me firmly, please,” he murmured.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s okay. I’m just very ticklish.”  
Pavel’s hands moved further down Hikaru’s back and settled on his bottom. He gave it a squeeze through the thin fabric of his underpants.  
Hikaru let out a small groan and bucked his hips once, then stopped quickly.  
“Is this ok?” He checked. “If I...?” He rolled his hips a little to show what he meant.  
“Yeah, yeah. That’s nice.” Pavel canted his own hips up to meet Hikaru’s.  
Hikaru adjusted his position on top of Pavel so that his half-erect penis lay along the seam of Pavel’s boxers. They ground slowly against each other, hands and mouths exploring each other’s bodies. Hikaru carefully avoided touching Pavel’s chest in case doing so triggered some discomfort in him. He wanted to ask how Pavel felt about various parts of his body; to check which words to use for which body parts and which words to avoid. He really didn’t want to do anything that might hurt or upset his best friend, but now was not the time to start that conversation. He would just stay away from Pavel’s chest and that would do for now.  
“Karu, may I...?” Pavel murmured and slid his hand between them, cupping Hikaru’s cock in his palm.  
Hikaru gasped at the sensation. “I’m sorry, I think I’m too drunk to get properly hard.”  
“That’s fine. I don’t like being penetrated anyway,” Pavel whispered.  
‘Oh, well. That’s ok then.” Hikaru rolled off him. “We can do some other stuff.”  
“Yeah.” Pavel’s hand was still on his cock. “Stuff like this.” He rubbed Hikaru through his pants, watching his face carefully for his reaction.  
“Oh fuck, Pavel. Yeah, that’s good.” Hikaru eyes rolled back in his head and he rolled his hips to match Pavel’s movements. He closed his eyes and let Pavel get on with it for a while.  
When he opened them, he saw that Pavel had his other hand down the front of his own pants. “Are you touching yourself?” He asked. “Oh God, that’s hot.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Pavel breathed.  
Hikaru shuffled a little closer so he could kiss Pavel. The backs of Pavel’s fingers brushed against his thigh as they moved inside his pants. Hikaru put his own hand over Pavel’s, on top of the fabric. “Is it okay if I feel what you’re doing, like this?” He asked.  
“Yes, it’s very okay.”  
“Mmm, good.”  
Pavel really, _really_ did feel good under Hikaru’s hand. The crotch of his pants was slightly moist—He must have been getting wet all that time they were kissing and fumbling. _Oh god, what a thought._ —and he could feel every movement as Pavel rubbed himself in slow circles.  
“Is it good? Do you like feeling me touch myself?” Pavel murmured.  
Hikaru groaned and thrust against Pavel’s thigh. “I like it, yes. It’s—it’s wonderful, actually.”  
“I like it too. It’s...” Pavel picked up the pace with his hand, bucking his hips too. “...It’s _good_.”  
Hikaru kissed him, open mouthed, urgently. He pressed his tongue into Pavel’s mouth, his hand still following Pavel’s motion through his pants. Pavel moaned into his mouth, arching his back. Hikaru broke off the kiss. “Are you close?”  
“Yeah—”  
Hikaru kissed him again. “Go on.”—Another kiss, the tip of his tongue skimming along Pavel’s upper lip— “I want to feel it when you come.”  
“I’m close. I’m close,” Pavel panted.  
“Yeah?”  
“Yeah—Oh fuck. _Ohh_.”  
Hikaru kissed him through his orgasm, revelling in the way Pavel groaned into his mouth. Pavel grinned up at him—a big, wide grin—when he was done.  
“Well,” Hikaru said, his voice full of admiration. “That was— _you_ were—spectacular.”  
Pavel made a small noise in the back of his throat, suddenly shy after sharing such an intimate moment with his friend.  
“Hey, that was... that was really something.” Hikaru stroked the backs of his knuckles down Pavel’s cheek. “Thank you.”  
“Thank you, too.” Pavel kissed him. Hikaru rolled his hips slowly, more because he enjoyed the sensation of grinding against Pavel’s thigh than because he wanted to get off. Pavel fumbled for his cock again.  
“I don’t think I’m capable of much more than this tonight,” Hikaru said.  
“Okay.” Pavel got out of bed and made for the bathroom, taking something out of his bag on the way. He returned after a few minutes, having swapped his binder for a tank top. He switched the lights off as he got back into bed and pulled the duvet up around his shoulders. “Are you okay?” He asked.  
“Very.” Hikaru wrapped his arms around him. He rolled his hips again, the head of his penis pressing against Pavel’s pelvic bone where it jutted out just above the top of his thigh. It felt delicious. “ _Very_ okay,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so! The slow-burn is definitely a healthy little fire now. For those who are here more for the porn than the plot, there’s plenty more of that to come, plus more insights into Pavel’s family and financial situation.  
> Expect more sex but fewer wet eggs in future updates... You win some; you lose some.  
> I’ve loved reading the comments so far. Please don’t be shy! All thoughts, however banal, are most welcome!


	7. Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes wake feeling worse for wear and it takes them a while to get going. Once they get on the road they have a long talk about boundaries and consent; have a tense moment at the Russian border; and engage in a big old NSFW road trip fic trope. There’s also an encounter with some wildlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve updated the tags, so please check those if you need content warnings.

**Day 7: Riga to Valdaysky**

Hikaru woke with a pounding head and feeling in in his mouth like he’d been chewing on a piece of old carpet. He groaned, rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head.  
“Good morning,” Pavel greeted him.  
He poked his head out over the top of the duvet, wincing at the too-bright daylight. Pavel was sitting in an armchair with his legs folded under him, clutching a bottle of water.  
“How come you’re so chipper? You _must_ be hungover,” Hikaru complained.  
“Hydration.” Pavel waved the bottle. “But yeah, I feel pretty rough.”  
Hikaru sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Pass me one, would you?”  
Pavel opened the minibar fridge and took out a bottle. He tossed it to Hikaru, who caught it and pressed the cool plastic to his forehead. He unscrewed the lid and drained half the bottle in a couple of gulps. His stomach lurched and threatened to bring the water back up again. He sat very still, willing it to stay down. He was definitely still drunk. Too drunk to drive.  
“I need to sober up a bit more before we can get on the road,” he said.  
“It was quite a night.”  
“Yeah.” Hikaru grinned at his friend despite his throbbing head. “It was.”  
Pavel got up from the chair. “You want coffee?”  
“Oh, please! Strong. And plenty of sugar.”  
“I think I can make it strong.” Pavel fiddled with the fancy coffee machine, figuring out how it worked. Hikaru winced when he dropped one of the components and it clattered on the table.  
“If you can do it quietly as well, that’d be great.”  
“You’re really suffering, aren’t you Karu?”  
Hikaru took another swing of water. “I’m not as young and resilient as you.”  
Pavel turned a disparaging look on his friend. “You’re twenty-two!”  
“Twenty-three,” Hikaru corrected. “Compared to you, I’m ancient. You’re still a teenager.”  
Pavel turned haughtily back to the machine. “I’ll be twenty next month.”  
Hikaru wondered if he’d pushed it too far. Pavel could be sensitive, and people treating him like a silly kid was something he resented.  
“Here’s your coffee.” Pavel banged the mug down with more force than was necessary. He turned to Hikaru with a wide grin on his face. “At least I’ll still be hot when you’re over-the-hill.”  
Hikaru knew he’d deserved that and resisted the temptation to make a cutting retort.  
Pavel made a second coffee for himself, then brought it and the room service menu over to the bed. He sat down beside Hikaru and asked, “What do you want for breakfast?”  
“What are the options?”  
Pavel scanned the menu. “Pastries... eggs...”  
“ _Not_ eggs,” Hikaru said emphatically. His stomach lurched at the thought.  
“Alright. Not eggs... Ah!” He jabbed his finger at the menu. “How about pancakes?”  
“Pancakes sound good, yeah. And orange juice. A big glass.” Hikaru’s mouth watered; his body needed the electrolytes.  
Pavel picked up the bedside phone. 

The food, combined with a couple of paracetamol and followed by a shower, worked wonders for Hikaru’s hangover. He sat on the edge of the bed, sipping his second coffee. “Give it another hour or so and I should be okay to drive,” he said.  
Pavel sat down and put and arm around him. “I’m sorry you’re suffering,” he murmured, and kissed him on the forehead.  
“Mmm,” Hikaru hummed, closing his eyes. “That helped. Do it again.”  
Pavel pressed his lips once more to his friend’s forehead. When he pulled away, Hikaru carefully put his coffee down. “The more you kiss me, the quicker I’ll sober up.” He pulled Pavel down onto the bed.  
“That is a lie.” Pavel kissed him on the lips anyway.  
“It’s a theory I think we should put to the test.” Hikaru kissed him back.  
Pavel giggled and ran his hand down Hikaru’s flank.  
“Hey! Hey!” Hikaru tried to wriggle away from the tickling. “Firm touch, remember?”  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s okay, look.” Hikaru took Pavel’s hand in his and pressed the fingertips to his chest. “See? Firm, like this.” He let go of the hand. Pavel trailed his fingers down the Hikaru’s sternum with just the right level of pressure. “Mmm. Now, that’s nice.”  
They spent a pleasant ninety minutes making out, until Hikaru reluctantly heaved himself off the bed, apprehensive about the long drive ahead. He chugged some more water from the minibar and gently cajoled Pavel into gathering up his belongings and leaving.  
Down in the hotel lobby Hikaru stood near the door, nervously shuffling his weight from foot-to-foot while he waited for Pavel to settle the bill. 

Once they’d navigated their way out of the city—taking only one wrong turn—and back onto the highway, Hikaru brought up a subject which had been playing on his mind since the previous night.  
“Pav, if we’re doing... well, what we’re doing,” he gesticulate with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel, “then we should talk about our boundaries and stuff.” Pavel hummed his agreement, but didn’t offer any further comment. “Okay, I’ll start. You said you don’t like being penetrated. Is that at all, or...?” Hikaru left the sentence hanging.  
“I don’t like it. I just don’t.” Pavel’s tone was sharp. “It’s because—”  
Hikaru cut him off. “Hey, Pavel. Pav. You don’t have to justify it.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his friend’s shoulders lower a little as he let go of some of the tension in his body. Pavel stared the side window. “Alright,” Hikaru tried a different approach. “What _do_ you like?”  
Pavel’s eyes remained firmly fixed on the passing cars. “Um... hmm... well...” he stammered.  
“Go on, it’s okay,” Hikaru encouraged.  
“I like being hurt a bit,” Pavel blurted out quickly. “But, y’know, in certain ways and only sometimes,” he qualified.  
“Is that something you’d like to explore with me?”  
Pavel knotted his fingers together in his lap. “I think... maybe...?” He frowned to himself, then added decisively, “Yeah. Yeah, I think yes.”  
Hikaru nodded slowly. “It’s not something that’s ever really appealed to me, hurting someone—or being hurt,” he said. “But if it’s something you like, then we could try.”  
Pavel shot him a quick glance. “Maybe you could just bite me a bit or something. Not hard. Just a little bit.” He held up his hand, thumb and forefinger space about a centimetre apart to emphasise the _little_.  
Hikaru gave him a salacious grin. “Maybe I could. Would you want me to ask first or surprise you?”  
“Surprise me, but gently, yeah?”  
“I can do gentle.” Hikaru filed the information carefully away.  
“But what do _you_ like?” Pavel turned the question back on him.  
“Well, I really hate being ticked, but you know that already.” Hikaru wanted to make sure his friend understood that. “But what I like? Hmm, let’s see... I like giving head. I really like that.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah, I find it kinda...” Hikaru scoured his brain for the right word. “...meditative. The focus the other person helps me to really _be_ in the moment.”  
“You want to do that with me?”  
“If you want to, yeah.”  
“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”  
“I’ve never... um,” Hikaru faltered. “I’ve never been with someone with your body-type before,” he admitted.  
“Oh.”  
“I don’t want to do the wrong thing. Or—or say the wrong thing. I don’t want to mess up.”  
“I don’t think you will.”  
“Okay, but I need you to help me. Are there parts of your body you don’t want me to touch?”  
Pavel shrugged. “Sometimes I feel weird about my chest, but sometimes it’s ok.”  
“Alright, you can tell me if you want me to touch you there, okay?”  
“Okay, yeah.” Pavel nodded his agreement. “There are some words,” he added, making a face. “I don’t like _woman_ words, y’know? Like _tits_ , or _vagina_ —urgh.” He shuddered.  
“Mhm, I get it.” Hikaru nodded. He hoped he wouldn’t mess up.  
They drove in silence for a while, each thinking over what they’d shared and what they’d learned about the other, until Hikaru said, “Hey, you wanna listen to some Red Army Choir?”  
Pavel picked up the cassette with a smile on his face. “You _like_ it!”  
“It might be growing on me.”  
They rewound _Kalinka_ over-and-over, with Pavel pausing the tape and repeating the words slowly so Hikaru could learn them by rote. After half an hour or so he was able to do a passable job of singing along.

Hikaru tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as the approached the Russian border.  
“There’ll be no problem,” Pavel tried to reassure him.  
Hikaru frowned. He’d heard some horror stories.  
At the checkpoint two officials gestured for them to step out of the car. One tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for Pavel to shuffle across from the passenger seat.  
“Door’s broken.” Hikaru shrugged apologetically. She ignored him.  
Their passports and Hikaru’s visa were scrutinised, and they were given forms to complete detailing what they were bringing into the country. Hikaru noticed that while Pavel’s form received only a cursory once-over glance, his got a lot more attention. The officials gestured at the car and said something in Russian.  
“They want us to open the boot,” Pavel translated.  
Hikaru went round to the back of the car and popped the latch.  
Pavel listened and nodded while one of the guards—the man this time—talked. “They want to know about the swords.”  
“Swords?” Hikaru’s mind drew a blank. “Oh! My fencing foils.”  
Pavel said a few words to the official.  
The guard glared at Hikaru. “For sport?” He asked.  
“Yes.” Hikaru nodded vigorously. “Sport.”  
Pavel and the guards exchanged a few more words, then Pavel said, “They need to see the swords.”  
Hikaru sighed. They were packed right at the back of the boot. He and Pavel set to unloading their cases and bags until the foils in their protective case were revealed. Hikaru closed the boot, set the case on top of it, and put his thumbs on the latches.  
The guard held his hands up, palms facing outward. “Slow,” he said.  
Slowly, and with shaky hands, Hikaru opened the latches and lifted the lid. He stepped back a few pace so the officials could examine the foils.  
“They’re blunt,” he said. Pavel translated. The official pressed his finger to the stoppered tip of one of the foils and shook his head slowly.  
Another conversation in a Russian ensued.  
Eventually, Pavel turned to him. “They say you can’t bring them.”  
Hikaru swallowed hard, trying not to burst out crying or kick something. He’d had some of those foils since he was a kid and now it looked like he’d have to abandon them at what was essentially a shed at the side of the road.  
“But let me try something, okay?” Pavel put a hand on Hikaru’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Hikaru nodded.  
More talking. The words were coming quicker now and the tone was getting heated. Hikaru closed the case and perched on the boot, waiting.  
One of the guards set off in the direction of the small wooden building that served as the border control office, with Pavel following. The other remained, staring at Hikaru. After a few minutes Pavel and the guard returned.  
“I called Papa. You can bring the swords.” Pavel announced.  
“O...kay...?” Hikaru gave him a _what’s-going-on?_ look.  
Pavel took out his wallet and pulled out a wedge of bank notes. He split it in half and handed a stack to each guard. The woman smiled and nodded to him and the man touched his finger to his hat in a salute.  
Pavel smiled brightly at his friend and said, “Alright, let’s put everything back.”  
They re-packed their belongings in silence then got back in the car. Hikaru had to fight back the urge to slam his foot down on the accelerator and get out of there as fast as possible. He pulled away at as a sedate speed as he could manage with his heart racing and limbs shaking. 

There was no other traffic on the road, so as soon as the checkpoint had dwindled to a tiny speck in the rear view mirror Hikaru slammed on the brakes and cut the engine. He rounded on Pavel. “What the fuck just happened?”  
“You didn’t want to leave the swords, so I made a phone call. Got it sorted.” Pavel shrugged like it was nothing.  
“To your dad.”  
“He has influence.”  
“And you paid a bribe.”  
“Yeah.”  
Hikaru stared at him, mouth agape. “And that’s...? You’re fine with that? That’s just how it is, is it?”  
“Yeah. It’s how it is.” Pavel had confusion written all over his face.  
Hikaru gave up on trying to make sense of it and decided to just be grateful they’d gotten into Russia unharmed and that he still had his foils. He re-started the car and drove on.

Pavel switched on the interior light and spread the map out on his knees. “There’s nothing. A village here, but—” He shook his head to indicate the unlikelihood of it offering any sort of accommodation for the night.  
They had turned off the federal highway and parked on a patch of scrubby grass while they discussed where to sleep for the night. They were both eager to cover as many miles as they could in the hope of reaching their destination the following day, but the late night last night was really catching up with Hikaru. He’d floated the idea of driving on through the night, but Pavel had vetoed it, saying, “Don’t pretend you haven’t been yawning for the last hour. We’re stopping.”  
“Look, this is—” Pavel squinted at the map “—Valdaysky National Park. It wouldn’t be a problem if we just sleep here in the car.”  
Hikaru didn’t fancy the idea, but didn’t see any alternatives. “Alright,” he sighed. “If you think we won’t get in trouble or anything.” He _really_ didn’t relish the thought of another encounter with Russian law enforcement.  
“It’s late, there’s no-one around.” Pavel shrugged. “We’ll be fine.”

After some debate about what would be most comfortable, they opted to climb into the back seat in the hope it would be wide enough for them to lie side-by-side.  
“Don’t wriggle. You’ll push me off,” Hikaru admonished.  
“Sorry, sorry,” Pavel said, continuing to wriggle.  
Hikaru made a futile grab for the back of the seat as he slid inelegantly into the footwell. “Pav!” He climbed back onto the seat again and lay down.  
“Okay, okay.” Pavel did his best to lie still.  
Hikaru slung his leg over Pavel’s thigh and wrapped an arm around him. “This might work if you—” Pavel’s kiss caught him by surprise and he sprung back, narrowly avoiding sliding off the seat a second time. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”  
“I do, yeah. But maybe we can make out a bit first?”  
Hikaru could see him pouting in the moonlight coming through the windows. “You are incorrigible,” he teased. Pavel kissed him again and he returned the kiss, rolling his friend onto his back and manoeuvring on top of him.  
“It’s nice,” Pavel, murmured against his lips when they broke for air.  
“It is,” Hikaru agreed, and resumed kissing him, pulling Pavel’s lower lip teeth and nipping it lightly.  
He wasn’t in any way prepared for Pavel’s reaction. He gasped and squirmed, arching his back, and dug his fingers into Hikaru’s shoulder blades. Hikaru nipped at his lip again, and Pavel gasped louder this time.  
“Oh, you like that, do you?”  
“Oh shit, fuck! Yes!”  
Hikaru worried at Pavel’s lip with his teeth a little longer then turned his attention to his neck, grazing the skin over his throat very carefully with his teeth.  
Pavel threw his head back, exposing his throat. “Oh fuck, Karu. _Yes_ ,” he breathed. He fumbled for Hikaru’s hand, found it, and pressed it to the crotch of his jeans.  
“Pav, I want to—” The rough denim was moist under Hikaru’s fingers and it was distracting as hell. “—I want to taste you. Please.”  
“Yes, yes. Please do.” Pavel pushed down on his shoulder, trying to guide him down toward his crotch.  
“Wait. This is going to take some logistics.” Hikaru lay still, thinking, for a moment. “Look, if you sit up, and...” he slid off the seat and got into a comfortable-enough crouch in the footwell. “Careful! Don’t kick me in the head!” Pavel’s trainer had come alarmingly close to his face.  
Pavel got himself arranged with a knee either side of Hikaru and wriggled his jeans down his thighs. “Will this work?” He asked.  
“Mmm, yeah. I think so.” 

The first attempt ended in failure.  
“You need to open your legs a bit wider,” Hikaru said.  
“I’m trying but my trousers are getting in the way.”  
“Okay, just do your best.”  
Hikaru pulled Pavel’s trousers further down his calves so he could get his knees further apart, and— _Yes!_ —this time he was able to get close enough without Pavel’s thighs being in the way. The tip of Pavel’s small penis protruded from his labia. Hikaru ran a finger down the seam, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as it brushed over Pavel’s dick. Gently, Hikaru spread him open with his fingers and probed lightly at his dick with his tongue. He pulled back. “This ok?”  
“Mmm, yeah. This is okay.”  
“We can stop if it isn’t, yeah?”  
“Yeah, but please...” Pavel’s hand found the back of his friend’s head and pushed him gently back toward his crotch.  
It took a bit of time for Hikaru to try out different things and find out what really got Pavel reacting in a way that said he was enjoying it, but once he’d established what those things were he settled back on his heels in the footwell and let his mind focus in on controlling his own movements and reading the feedback from Pavel—little grunts, moans, twitches; the way he rolled his hips to push into Hikaru’s mouth; and the pressure of his fingertips against Hikaru’s skull—pushing thoughts of tiredness; rumination on the incident at the border; and awareness of his discomfort being squashed up on the floor of a car, out, until everything was Pavel—all he heard, felt, smelled, wanted—until Pavel and Pavel’s pleasure were all that mattered.  
Pavel moaned and rutted into his face with abandon, and as Hikaru knelt in the footwell, sucking on his friend’s dick, a calm descended over him and he realised with a clarity that slammed into him with a force that almost winded him, that _this is where I belong_. Just at that moment Pavel came, shuddering and grinding against his face and wailing so loud that Hikaru felt grateful they were so far from habitation after all. He sucked his friend through his orgasm until Pavel pushed him away, panting heavily. Hikaru rested his head on Pavel’s thigh, working to regain the power of speech. His jaw ached and his brain was addled. From the way Pavel was mumbling, it sounded like he was in a similar state.  
Pavel regained his composure first and stroked his hand down the back of Hikaru’s head. “Hey,” he said, tenderly.  
Hikaru lifted his head and hummed low in his throat, not yet able to speak actual words.  
“That was...” Pavel’s voice sounded distant, dreamy. “That was.... Wow. I don’t know. It just was...”  
Hikaru got the gist of what he was trying to say. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.” He put his head back down in Pavel’s lap.

Hikaru had no idea how long he’d stayed kneeling on the floor with his head resting on Pavel’s thigh. It was comforting. Intimate. But eventually his foot went dead and he was forced to unfold himself. He sat with his leg stretched out in the gap between the front seats, waiting for the life to creep back into it while Pavel did his trousers up and fastened his belt.  
“I need to pee,” Hikaru announced once he trusted the foot to support his weight again. He opened the door and stuck his head out. Something loomed out of the night, big and dark, silhouetted against the moon, making him jump. He shut the door again. “Pav,” he whispered.  
“Mmm?”  
“There’s something out there.”  
Pavel climbed over him and opened the door. He looked out. “It’s an elk,” he said, and closed the door again.  
“Is it dangerous?”  
“Only to other elks.”  
“What’s it doing?”  
Pavel looked out the window. “It’s just... standing.”  
“I can’t pee if an elk’s watching me.”  
“So, get out the other side.”  
“That door’s broken.”  
“Well, get out this side and go round.”  
They climbed over each other once more and Hikaru cautiously opened the door. He looked at the elk, which stood, unmoving, looking back. He swung his legs out of the car and made a dash round to the other side as quickly as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will our dauntless champions make it to Moscow tomorrow or will they be beset by unforeseen delays? Will Hikaru feel like something the cat dragged in around Pavel’s stinking rich family or will everything be ok? And will he get around to booking that plane ticket any time soon? Answers to some of these burning questions—maybe—in the next exciting instalment! If you haven’t mashed _subscribe_ yet then do so now! I’d hate for you to miss out.
> 
> Keep those comments coming please! I’m enjoying reading your reactions <3


	8. Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karu and Pav make it to Moscow... well, sort of. It’s not quite the arrival Hikaru had in mind. On the way the Red Army Choir cassette has its last hurrah, Gertrude’s broken radio comes good, and we learn about Hikaru’s student side-hustle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, you’ll see I’ve added this fic to a new _Early Noughties Student Chulu AU_ series because I have not finished with this version of Karu and Pav yet. I added a little one-shot about Pavel getting excited about packet ramen in Hikaru’s scuzzy Kilburn bedsit. If that’s something of interest to you then you can check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27352066

**Day 8: Valdaysky to ~~Moscow~~... make that the _Outskirts_ of Moscow **

Hikaru groped under his seat for the bottle of _Coke_ he’d chucked there a couple of days ago. He pulled it out, unscrewed the cap and took a swig. It was flat. He drank it anyway. “I could murder a coffee,” he said, chucking the empty bottle into the back seat.  
“Yeah,” said Pavel. Hikaru had generously relinquished his claim to the last can of _Red Bull_. The sickly-sweet smell from the open can in Pavel’s hand hung in the air inside the car. “You want some?” Pavel offered the can.  
“No.” Hikaru made a face and cracked the window open.  
It took several tries to get the car started—Gertrude, as usual, was a bit temperamental first thing in the morning—and they made their way back to the federal highway.  
“We should be at my parents’ house by lunchtime,” Pavel said. He pushed their one cassette into the tape deck.  
Hikaru grunted his acknowledgement as the voice of Evgeny Belyaev at full belt rattled the car’s small speakers. Spending the night in the car hadn’t done much to lessen his feeling of deep-down exhaustion, and he’d really prefer some quiet. “Pav, can you—?” He began to say, but was interrupted by a squeal from the stereo.  
Pavel ejected the cassette and pulled it carefully out of tape deck, ribbons of tape unspooling as he removed it. He poked a finger in the slot and wiggled the tape free, then turned to Hikaru with a look of despair on his face.  
“Oh, Pav. I’m sorry.” Hikaru checked the rear view mirror, saw there was nothing on the road behind them, and pulled over.  
“My tape.”  
“Is it really bad?”  
Pavel held it up. The tangle of tape protruding from the bottom of the cassette looked liked it spelled the end of Pavel’s beloved mixtape. He opened the glove box and, with almost reverential care, placed the cassette inside. He closed it again, gently. “It was important to me.”  
“I know.” Hikaru reached over and gave his knee a squeeze.  
“Let’s go. I want to get home.”

Each sat quietly wrapped in his own thoughts for the next hour, Hikaru concentrating on the driving and staying awake enough to do it safely, and Pavel staring out of the window, mourning his cassette. Eventually Pavel broke the silence.  
“Karu?”  
“Hmm?” Hikaru hummed absently.  
“Last night. It was... Well, it was...” Pavel trailed off, searching for the right words. “I had a good time. Like, a _really_ good time.”  
“Yeah, it was something else, wasn’t it?”  
They lapsed into silence again, then Pavel asked, “How did you get so good at oral?”  
Hikaru shrugged. “Practice, I guess. I just like it a lot.”  
“No, but you’re _good_ good. Amazingly good.”  
Hikaru realised his friend wasn’t going to drop it. He took a deep breath and exhaled, steadying himself to share a secret he’d told very few people. “Okay. So, cash was a bit short in undergrad, so I did the sugar baby thing.” He shot a look at Pavel, who was looking back it him with an expression of surprise. No sign judgement was evident on his face, though. “The guy was into getting blown. A lot.” He smiled a little at the memory. “So I got a lot of practice and I got good at it. _And_ I learned to love it.”  
Pavel’s mouth was hanging open. “When was this?”  
“Second and third year. There was a mix-up with my scholarship and they decided I wasn’t entitled to it after all, so they cut the funding off at the start of second year—and you know how high those international student fees are.”  
“But you were in third year when we met.”  
“Yeah, I did the _boyfriend experience_ thing a couple of nights a week and he gave me an allowance which covered my tuition fees and living expenses, and the rest of the time he let me be. I was very fortunate to find someone like him, actually.”  
“And you got that scholarship from the uni for your masters?”  
“Yeah, so I stopped.”  
“But you never said anything.”  
“It’s not really something I wanted to shout about, y‘know?”  
“But it’s just a job.”  
“Yeah. People can be weird about sex work though.”  
Pavel shook his head slowly. “You think you know a person,” he said.  
“Are you... is it okay that I used to do this?” Hikaru really hoped Pavel wasn’t going to get weird about it. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.  
“Who am I to judge?” Hikaru felt his stomach muscles unclench. “Anyway, it worked out quite well for me. I got to benefit from your professional expertise.”  
They both laughed at that.  
“Hey, d’you think the radio might work?” Hikaru switched it on. Amazingly the frequency it was stuck on actually picked up a broadcast. It was a little crackly, but a man’s voice emanated from the speakers, talking rapidly in Russian.  
The two friends grinned at each other.  
“It’s a comedian,” said Pavel. “Stand-up.”  
“What’s he saying?”  
“Okay, so... He was taking a shower...” Pavel translated. “And he slipped over...” Hikaru nodded. “And he broke his leg so his wife had to call an ambulance...” Pavel paused to listen, then went on, “But when the paramedics came they started laughing and got their phones out and took photos of him lying on the bathroom floor, and—” Pavel broke off laughing.  
“And _what_?” Hikaru was impatient to be in on the joke.  
Pavel clutched his side, trying to catch his breath. “No, I can’t. It’s too funny,” he gasped.  
Hikaru sighed and turned his attention back to the road. It was going to be a long four hours to Moscow.

The car juddered to a stop just after turning off the federal highway onto the trunk road leading into the city.  
“C’mon, girl. Don’t let us down now,” Hikaru pleaded; the starter turned over, but the engine remained stubbornly dead. “Gertrude, please.” He gave it one last go then took the key out of the ignition. He turned to Pavel. “Okay, what now?”  
Pavel unfolded the map and inspected it. “Look, there’s a metro station here.” He pointed at a small red ‘M’. “It’s...” He squinted to read the text. “...Dedovsk.”  
“Alright...” Hikaru didn’t have a clue.  
Pavel mouthed something silently to himself, then, “Yes, it goes to Rizhskaya. Change at Leningradskaya onto the Zamoskvoretskaya, and then—”  
“How far is it to this station?” Hikaru cut in.  
“Ohhhh...” Pavel checked the scale at the edge of the map. “About three miles,” he estimated.  
“We’d better get going, then.” Hikaru reached for his overnight bag on the back seat, pulled out a clean pair of underpants, which he stuffed into his jacket pocket, and a bottle of water. Pavel grabbed the mangled mixtape from the glove box. “That’s all you’re bringing?” Hikaru stared at him incredulously.  
Pavel shrugged. “Yeah.”  
Hikaru shook his head and got out of the car so Pavel could do what would be his last undignified shuffle across the seats of the journey. “So long, Gertrude.” He patted her bonnet fondly before checking all the doors were locked.  
“We’ll arrange for a tow truck,” Pavel said.  
“Great.” Hikaru didn’t relish the idea of his wreck of a car arriving unceremoniously on the back of a tow truck outside what was sure to be a very fancy house.  
They set off in the direction of Dedovsk station.  
On the train Pavel produced the mangled cassette and a pencil from his pocket and began carefully untangling the tape. Hikaru, sitting opposite, silently admired his dedication to his mixtape. Once Pavel had the tape untangled, he pushed the pencil into the centre of one of the reels and wound it carefully back onto its spool. 

It was mid-afternoon when they finally arrived at the Chekov family home in a quiet, leafy neighbourhood, having walked another mile or so from the nearest trolley bus stop. It was, as Hikaru had feared, huge. More of a mansion within its own gated compound than a house, really. Pavel’s relatives were all over them in an instant.  
It seemed to Hikaru that Pavel’s entire family had shown up to greet them. Cousins, siblings, aunts, uncles, all clamouring to hug, shake hands, kiss cheeks and exchange a few words. Names and faces went by in a blur for Hikaru, who had really been hoping for a long shower and an afternoon nap. Someone handed him a cup of coffee on a saucer while talking intently at him in Russian. He took it gratefully, nodded his thanks and sat down perched on the edge of a sofa, hoping to fade quietly into the background while Pavel caught up with his family.  
No such luck. A child, aged—Hikaru guessed—around eleven or twelve, plopped down beside him.  
“Hi,” they said in English. “I’m Irina, Pasha’s annoying little sibling.”  
“Oh. Uh, hi.” Hikaru stuck his hand out. Irina shook it.  
They looked him up-and-down. “Not bad,” they said, casually.  
“Sorry, _what_?”  
“I didn’t expect Pasha to date someone who’s actually attractive,” Irina explained.  
“Look, we’re not—” Hikaru snapped hips mouth shut. But they _were_. They weren’t dating as such... or were they? Hikaru didn’t know what to call it. He couldn’t exactly say _I sucked your big brother off in the back of my car last night and gave him the orgasm of a lifetime, but we’re just friends_ , could he? He thought it better to say nothing at all and muttered, “Never mind.”  
A wide grin spread over Irina’s face. “Oh _good_!” They clapped their hands together. “Gossip!”  
“There’s none. Really,” Hikaru said wearily.  
He was saved by Pavel who, at that moment, bounced over and rubbed his hand in Irina’s hair, messing it up. “Irinka! Little sib!” He greeted them, shoving their shoulder until they budged up on the sofa to make room for him. “How’s it going?” He sat down.  
“Great! I was just talking to your boyfriend. He’s hot!”  
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Pavel protested, shooting Hikaru an apologetic look.  
“Then why’d you bring him here?”  
“We just...” Pavel tried, but then gave up. “Look, can we not? I’m really tired.”  
“As am I. As am I,” Hikaru muttered to himself.  
“Oh shit, sorry.” Pavel turned to him. “I’m being terrible. Sorry. It’s just I haven’t seen my family for ages.”  
“It’s fine.”  
Pavel stood up abruptly, shouted something over the din of chattering relatives—who fell silent immediately, said a few more words at a quieter volume, then grabbed Hikaru’s hand and pulled him up off the sofa.  
“What are we doing?” Hikaru asked.  
“Come on.” Pavel pulled him toward the door. “We go to my room and have quiet.”  
That was the best offer Hikaru had had all day. He followed Pavel out of the room and up some stairs.

Pavel’s bedroom was, of course, large and beautifully furnished, except for a few faded posters blu-tacked to the wall—a relic from Pavel’s schooldays. He sat down on the bed and patted the duvet, inviting Hikaru to sit too. “Sorry,” he said again.  
“It’s okay, really,” said Hikaru.  
Pavel brought his hand to Hikaru’s cheek and stroked it with the pad of his thumb. “I wasn’t good host.” His accent had got a little thicker, Hikaru noticed, and he was dropping the conjunctions and articles in his speech.  
“Really, it’s fine.”  
“What do you need?” Pavel asked.  
“A shower.”  
“There’s bathroom.” Pavel gestured to a door at the far end of the room. “You take shower. Towel will be in cupboard.”  
“Thanks.” Hikaru rose from the bed.

Hikaru felt a million times better after his shower. He reclined on the bed dressed in his one pair of clean underpants and a t-shirt Pavel had dug out of a drawer for him.  
“You want to sleep now,” Pavel said. It was a statement, not a question.  
“Oh yeah,” Hikaru confirmed.  
“Okay, you sleep. When you wake up we’ll eat dinner, yeah?” Pavel went over to a desk and sat down. He opened a drawer and began rummaging through it.  
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Hikaru got under the covers and pulled them over his head. It sounded _very_ good, actually.  
“Hey, Karu?”  
“Mmf, what?” Hikaru had just been drifting off to sleep when Pavel’s voice startled him awake.  
“Welcome.”  
“Mmm, what?” Hikaru mumbled, half-asleep and confused.  
“Welcome to Russia, to my home.”  
“Thanks, Pav.”  
“And to my family.”  
Hikaru drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The radio comic’s stand-up routine was stolen from a comedian I saw at a comedy club in Glasgow in about 2004. If—like Hikaru—you are keen to know the punchline, then I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten it 😂
> 
> Stay tuned to meet more of Pavel’s family (it’s going to need a _War and Peace_ -style table of names, which I will definitely write _yes I will_ ), discover Gertrude’s fate, and ~~witness a Hikaru booking that plane ticket~~...
> 
> Subscribe, kudos, comment, yadda yadda... you know the drill <3


	9. Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru pays off some of his sleep debt before Gertrude’s grand arrival; Pavel’s entire extended family come over for dinner; then Pav and Karu snatch an intimate moment before sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the age of fifteen Hikaru Sulu carried a copy of _War and Peace_ around in a bid to be perceived as an intellectual*. He even read some of it, so he’s familiar with how Russian names work. But keeping up with who’s who Pavel’s family gives him a headache, so here’s a _War and Peace_ -style character list in case it gives you, dear reader, a headache too.
> 
> **  
> Notable Members of the Chekov Family  
> **
> 
> **Larisa Irinova Chekova**  
>  “ **Lara** ”. The family matriarch. Wife of Andrei; mother to Ekaterina, Pavel and Irina; aunt to Liliana.
> 
> **Andrei Dimitrievich Chekov**  
>  Head of the family and CEO of the family business. Husband of Larisa; father to Ekaterina, Pavel and Irina.
> 
> **Ekaterina Androvna Chekova**  
>  “ **Katya** ”. Daughter of Andrei and Larisa; sister of Pavel and Irina. Mother to Piotr and Aleksandr.
> 
> **Pavel Andreivich Chekov**  
>  “ **Pasha** ” to his family; “ **Pavel** ” or “ **Pav** ” to his English-speaking friends. Son of Andrei and Larisa; brother to Ekaterina and Irina.
> 
> **Irina Andreivich Chekova**  
>  “ **Irinka** ”. Youngest child of Andrei and Larisa; sibling to Pavel and Ekaterina. Likes to mix it up with the gendered suffixes.
> 
> **Piotr**  
>  “ **Petya** ”. Eldest son of Ekaterina; brother to Aleksandr; nephew to Pavel and Irina.
> 
> **Aleksandr**  
>  “ **Aleksei** ”. Youngest son of Ekaterina; brother to Piotr; nephew to Pavel and Irina.
> 
> **Liliana**  
>  “ **Liliya** ”. Daughter of Larisa’s sister; niece to Larisa; cousin to Pavel; Ekaterina and Irina.
> 
> **Viktor**  
>  The neighbours’ kid who wandered in one day and never left. It is an open secret that while his parents provide for his physical needs he is starved of love and affection at home. Andrei and Larisa have written him into their will.  
> ____
> 
> *Any similarity to my own teenage propensity for wankery is purely coincidental.

**DAY 9: MOSCOW**

_Okay, where am I...? Oh yeah, this is Pav’s house and I’m in bed and—Who’s this? Oh right, that’s Pav spooning me. That’s nice, yeah..._  
It wasn’t a bad way to wake up, really. Not bad at all.  
“Hey, you’re awake.” Pavel pressed his face into the side of Hikaru’s neck and kissed him.  
“Yeah, what time is it?”  
“Seven-ish.”  
“What?” Hikaru rolled over to face his friend. “It can’t be! I’ve slept longer than... _Oh_!” The realisation struck him. “Seven _AM_.”  
“You slept fourteen hours.”  
“Jeez.”  
“Listen, we’d better get up. Car will be here soon.”  
Hikaru frowned. “What car?”  
“Gertrude.”  
“What?” He really wasn’t awake enough for this.  
“I called tow truck company while you slept. Katya has your keys. She’s gone with truck.”  
“Wait. Who’s Katya?”  
“My sister. You met her yesterday.”  
Hikaru scoured his brain for any recollection of meeting Pavel’s sister. “Is she the blonde one?” He asked, hopeful he’d remembered right.  
“No. Blonde is Liliya, my cousin.”  
Hikaru sat up. “Pav, I need a coffee.”

“Right,” Hikaru said, buttering a slice of toast. He, Pavel and Irina were seating around the dining room table eating breakfast. “Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. Liliana’s your cousin on your mother’s side, and Ekaterina’s your sister.” Pavel nodded. “And she has two children, and she and the kids live here too.”  
“Yes! Piotr and Aleksandr. You get it right!” Pavel enthused.  
“Aleksandr is the older one, right?”  
“No, Piotr is the oldest.”  
“You forgot Katya’s deadbeat husband,” Irina interjected.  
“Irika! He’s not a deadbeat,” Pavel protested. “Anyway he doesn’t live here. Let’s not confuse Karu any more than necessary.”  
Irina stirred their tea. “Good thing too. I’d kick his head in if he showed up here.”  
“Please don’t talk that way.”  
_Great_ , thought Hikaru. _I’m stuck in the middle of a family argument._  
“Pasha,” Irina said quietly, “you haven’t been here much the last few years. Trust me, he really is.”  
“Alright, alright. I’ll take your word for it.” Pavel made a conciliatory gesture. “Let’s talk about something else.”  
Irina’s face lit up. “Okay, yes! Great!” They turned to Hikaru. “So are you two fucking?” They accompanied the question with a circle between their thumb and forefinger and slowly moved the index finger of their other hand in-and-out if it, a wide grin on their face. Pavel looked mortified.  
Hikaru really hadn’t had enough coffee for this, and he was halfway through his second cup. “Alright, look. Pav and I have been friends for a long time, and—well—recently we began to think that maybe we’d like to be a bit more than friends.” He really hoped that would put the topic to rest once and for all.  
“That means you’re fucking.” Irina grinned, satisfied.  
“ _Enough_ ,” Pavel interjected. “That’s private.”  
Irina said something in Russian. Pavel glared across the table at them. They lent back in their seat, folded their arms across their chest and said, “ _Definitely_ a yes.”  
In a desperate bid to change the subject, Hikaru mentioned that he really should check his emails.  
“Irinka, go and get your laptop,” Pavel instructed.

“I am so sorry,” Pavel said as soon as his sibling was out of the room.  
“It’s okay. It’s kinda funny in a horrifying sort of way.”  
“They’re twelve years old. They really should know better.”  
“Have some coffee.” Hikaru really didn’t want to talk about it further. He filled Pavel’s cup from the pot.  
Irina returned with the computer and set it on the table in front of the guest. “Thanks,” Hikaru said, opening it up.  
He logged into his email. There was one from his parents asking when he was coming home—he really should call them—a few penis enlargement ads he deleted without opening, and one from his university friend, Sam Boma. He clicked on it.  
“Hey, there’s one from Sam,” he announced. Pavel had been friendly with him too.  
“What’s he saying?”  
Hikaru skim-read the text and summarised it. “He says it’s weirdly quiet now most people have gone... his team lost lost another hockey match... Ah, and wants to know how the road trip’s going.”  
“Tell him about Berlin,” Pavel said.  
“I will.” Hikaru was already typing a reply. “And I’ll tell him we got together too.”  
“I want to know what he says.”  
“Hang on.” Hikaru finished typing and pressed _send_.  
The reply was almost instant.  
_FINALLY. We’ve all be waiting for years you to make a move. Geoffrey’s been taking bets. —S_  
Hikaru read the reply aloud while Irina bounced in their seat, delighted. “ _See?_ ” They crowed triumphantly.  
Hikaru logged out of his email account and closed the laptop. He was more than a little annoyed he’d apparently been the last person to notice he actually had feelings for Pavel, and that his friends had been placing bets on his love life without his knowledge.

The dining room door banged open.  
“Pavel Andreievich!” Ekaterina came bounding through the door.  
“Katya!” Pavel greeted her with a hug.  
“Hey, Irinka,” she nodded to Irina over Pavel’s shoulder. “Your car is here, _Kotik_ ,” she said to Pavel.  
“Hey!” Pavel pulled away and punched her playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore. Anyway, it’s Karu’s car, not mine.”  
Katya grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah, we should translate for the Yank.” She turned to Hikaru. “Do you know this word, _Kotik_?” Hikaru shook his head.  
“ _Katya_!” Pavel pleaded.  
“Oh, please tell us, Katya,” Irina goaded.  
“It’s a cutesy nickname. Means _kitten_ ,” said Pavel.  
“Pasha loves it when people call him that,” said Katya.  
Pavel folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, when I was like, seven.”  
Katya giggled and mussed Pavel’s hair again. She fished in her pocket, pulled out Hikaru’s car keys and tossed them to him. They landed on his plate.  
“Thanks,” Hikaru said.  
Pavel gave him a dark look. “Karu, if I ever hear you say that word outside of this house, I will kill you,” he warned.  
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”  
_Kotik_. Hikaru rolled the word around in him mind. It did suit Pavel. Probably suited him more when he was a kid though.  
Katya chucked Pavel under the chin while saying something in Russian in a squeaky voice. Pavel slapped her hand away, protesting.  
Hikaru rose form the table. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s see how Gertrude’s doing, shall we?”

It seemed to Hikaru like Pavel’s entire family had turned out to watch his car arrive. They stood around it on the driveway, chattering excitedly and passing round styrofoam cups of black tea.  
A trio of grubby kids emerged from the bushes lining the long drive, laughing and chasing each other. “That’s Piotr and Aleksandr,” said Pavel.  
“Who’s the third one?” Hikaru asked.  
“He’s Victor,” Irina said. “The neighbour’s kid. He pretty much lives here when he’s not in school. I don’t think his family notice he’s not there.”  
Pavel shouldered his way through the gaggle of relatives with Hikaru and Irina following. Hikaru unlocked the car and opened the boot. The relatives descended on them with offers to help unload.  
Hikaru was halfway through dragging his largest suitcase over the lip of the boot when he noticed Irina had gone round to the passenger side and had her hand on the door latch. “Irina! Don’t! It’s—”  
The entire door came off its hinges and landed on the driveway with a loud _thunk_.  
“Sorry,” Irina said into the stunned silence that followed.  
“I think that was Gertrude’s last stand,” Hikaru said as he and Pavel set off toward the house each lugging heavy cases.  
“She’ll live to fight another day,” Pavel said.  
“I’m not so sure,” said Hikaru. “I should book my flight,” he added. It had been weighing on his mind.  
“Do it tomorrow.”  
“Alright. Tomorrow.”

That evening Pavel’s parents—Andrei and Larisa—hosted a big dinner for yet more relatives who had descended on the house in drips and drabs throughout the afternoon. Hikaru was mortified when Larisa insisted he take the seat at the head of the table.  
“Pav, what’s going on?” He asked when Pavel sat down beside him.  
Pavel shrugged. “Just being respectful to honoured guest.”  
Irina giggled behind her hand.

The meal was over, the guests had all left and Hikaru and Pavel were lying side-by-side in Pavel’s too-big-to-be-a-single-but-too-small-to-be-a-double bed. Pavel ran his fingers absently down Hikaru’s chest. “You remember Janice?” He asked.  
“Firm touch, please,” Hikaru reminded him. “Yeah, I do.” Janice had been Pavel’s girlfriend in his second year. Hikaru felt quite guilty about acting cold and aloof whenever she’d visited the flat.  
“Okay. So, she used to do this thing...” Pavel’s cheeks reddened.  
“Yeah, go on,” Hikaru said softly.  
“She had this strap-on, and she used to fuck my thighs. I thought maybe we could try that?”  
“Mhm,” Hikaru hummed, mulling the proposition over. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before, but it sounded pleasant enough. “We could.”  
“One time she tried to fuck my chest too,” Pavel went on. “But it was a bit weird so we stopped. And—”  
Hikaru stopped the tumble of words by pressing a gentle kiss to friend’s lips. “We’d better stick to the thighs, then.”  
“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Pavel kissed him back eagerly.

It turned out to be _very_ nice indeed. Hikaru didn’t know why he hadn’t fucked anyone’s thighs before now. Really. Pavel was enjoying himself too, lying on his front on the bed, touching himself while Hikaru slid his lube-slicked cock lazily in-and-out botween his thighs. It was unhurried and sensual and delicious, and Hikaru relished every minute of it.  
When he felt himself getting close Hikaru pulled away and sat back on his knees. “Is it ok if I come over your back?” He asked.  
“Oh please! Yes!” Pavel sounded like he was close too.  
Hikaru brought his hand to his cock and finished himself off with a few quick strokes, his ejaculate spurting over the patch of bare skin below the hem of Pavel’s binder. Pavel, grinding himself furiously against the mattress, followed soon after.

After Hikaru had found a box of tissues and cleaned them both up he lay on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts with Pavel’s head resting against his chest.  
“What’s up?” Pavel asked softly.  
Hikaru was silent for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts before he answered. “Well, this is a _very_ nice house,” he said. Pavel nodded. “And today your whole family turned out to watch my car fall apart on the drive. It was pretty humiliating.”  
Pavel snorted. “And funny.”  
Hikaru wasn’t ready to see the funny side. “I dunno. I just feel really awkward,” he said.  
“Why?”  
“Mmm, it’s just that money’s always been a bit tight in my family, and your dad probably owns Wolverhampton Wanderers or something. I feel a bit out-of-place.”  
“I’m sorry.” Pavel stroked Hikaru’s jaw with the backs of his fingers.  
“It’s okay.”  
“For what it’s worth, my family really like you.”  
Hikaru smiled at that. “I’m upset about Gertrude too,” he said. “I bought her the first week I arrived in London and now she’s dead and I’m leaving. It’s all a bit much. I’ll have to sort out getting her to a scrap yard.”  
“We can put her in the garage. There’s plenty of room.”  
“She’ll just sit and rust there. That’ll be worse.”  
“Not if we fix her up.”  
“She’s done for, Pav. Anyway, I don’t know the first thing about how to go about it and neither do you.”  
“We could learn,” Pavel said. Hikaru made a sceptical noise in the back of his throat. “And when you come and visit we can work on her together.”  
Hikaru rolled over so their faces were inches from each other, noses almost touching. “Is that what you want?” He asked. “For me to come and visit sometimes?”  
Pavel pulled one side of his mouth up in a lopsided smile. “That’d be nice, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave at all.”  
Hikaru lay mulling his friend’s words over in the dark long after Pavel had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just what exactly was that big family dinner all about? Will Hikaru ever book that flight? Will Irina get a hobby other than hassling Pavel and Hikaru about their sex lives?
> 
> Shower sex and a big reveal in the next chapter, folks!
> 
> Subscribe ~ Comment ~ Kudos ... You know the drill!


	10. Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru starts the day with a run round the neighbourhood he and Pavel spend some _quality time together_ , he gets to hang out with Katya and her kids, and then things deteriorate, but it's all resolved by the end of that chapter. He still doesn't book that flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in posting this update. It's a bit of a monster (>4000 words!) and my wonderful, long-suffering beta reader found the porn hard-going (no pun intended). Also, I hate editing and have been putting off editing this one because it's loooong. Anyway, here it is.

**DAY 10: MOSCOW... STILL**

Hikaru’s limbs felt heavy, sluggish. After being cooped up in a car for a week he needed to move. He slipped out of bed and opened a suitcase.   
“Mmf. What ya doing?” Pavel asked. He lay on his side with the corner of the duvet wrapped around his head like a hood, blinking sleepily at Hikaru.  
Hikaru pulled clothes out of the case and tossed them on the floor, searching for his running shoes. “I need to go for a run,” he said.  
“M’kay,” Pavel mumbled. He pulled the duvet over his face.

Once he was dressed in his running kit, Hikaru made his way downstairs. He paused on the doorstep to consider his options. It was still early—just after dawn—and the only other sign of life was a gardener clipping the hedge. Hikaru waved to him. He nodded back. There was ample space round the back of the house—a well-manicured lawn, tennis court, and a swimming pool, all connected by paths around which he could run circuits—but the streets of suburbia beyond the pair of high gates held more appeal. He set off down the long driveway at a brisk walk.   
When he reached the street he took a right on a whim, and began jogging down a shallow gradient on the wide pavement. Tall hedges and fences lined the street, shielding large houses with neat lawns and topiary from the road.  
“This place is not for the likes of you, is it?” He muttered under his breath. “Not at all.”  
Hikaru allowed himself a few minutes to brood on his feelings of inadequacy, then sternly told himself to _stop this nonsense_ , and picked up the pace.   
He followed the twisting streets, occasionally back-tracking when he found he’d run down a cul-de-sac, and making a careful mental note of where he took a right or a left so he could re-trace his steps, enjoying the feeling of his heart racing in his chest and his limbs loosening as his muscles warmed up.   
By the time he returned to the house, panting, his face flushed, he was riding an endorphin high that put a wide grin on his face. He stopped at the top of the steps leading up to the front door to stretch.

Katya emerged from the house while he was stretching and lent on the door jamb with her arms folded across her chest.  
“Morning.” Hikaru—balanced on one leg while he pulled the opposite foot up toward his back to stretch off his thigh—nodded to her.

“I’m taking the kid to the park later. Would you like to come?”  
“Last night’s discussion with Pavel had been going round and round in Hikaru’s mind, and if he _was_ going to move here... Well, it would be sensible to see a bit of the local area before he made any decision. “Sure,” he said aloud.  
“Alright, we go at ten.” Katya went back into the house.

“Karu? Mind if I join you?”  
Hikaru could just make out Pavel’s outline through the steamed-up transparent door of the shower stall. “Yeah. Sure,” he called over the noise of the splashing water.  
Pavel stripped off his tank top and boxers and stepped into the shower.  
“Hey.” Pavel grinned at his friend. It was the first time Hikaru had seen him completely naked.  
Hikaru wiped shampoo suds out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Uhh... hey?” He managed. Pavel’s nakedness was making it challenging to form a coherent sentence.  
Pavel placed his hands on Hikaru’s hips, pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his lips.  
“Oh, God,” Hikaru mumbled. This was too much.  
“How was your run?” Pavel’s hands were snaking up his back now, his bare, wet front pressed against Hikaru. He kissed Hikaru again.  
“Good... Yeah, good.”  
Pavel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, so that his thigh brushed against Hikaru’s hardening cock. “Ohh,” Hikaru let out a shuddery breath. “Lemme rinse my hair first, yeah?” The suds were running in his eyes again.  
Pavel stepped back so that Hikaru could rinse to soap out of his hair. As soon as he was done Hikaru closed the gap between them, wrapped his arms around him and kissed him eagerly. “This is unexpected,” he said in-between kisses.  
“You like it?” Pavel asked.  
“Oh, yes.” Pavel slipped his hand between them and ran his fingers along the length of Hikaru’s hard-on. “Ohhhh, yes,” Hikaru repeated. His knees went weak, threatening to give way.  
“If you turn around, you can lean against the wall,” Pavel suggested.  
Hikaru did so, and braced his hands against the tiles.  
Pavel stepped up behind him, pressing himself against Hikaru’s back and thighs. Hikaru made a small, tight, strangled noise in the back of his throat. Pavel reached around to Hikaru’s front and ran his hands down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples to hard peaks.  
“Oh God, Pav,” Hikaru moaned.  
“Hang on.” Pavel reached for the wall-mounted soap dish, grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands. It took all of Hikaru’s self-control not to come off as soon as Pavel brought a soap-slicked hand to his cock.  
“How’s that?” Pavel murmured on his ear.  
The sensation of Pavel’s wet chest moved against his back in concert with the soapy hand stroking his cock had Hikaru reduced to a nonverbal state. He let out a whine.  
“Good, huh?”  
Hikaru nodded vigorously. Keeping one hand on the wall he reached over his shoulder with the other and cupped Pavel’s cheek in his palm. Still working Hikaru’s cock with his hand, Pavel nuzzled into the touch, kissed his palm, and ran his tongue along his fingers.   
“Oh, _God_!”  
Pavel mumbled something around Hikaru’s fingers.  
“Fuck... What?” Hikaru panted.  
Pavel released his fingers. “Would you like me to play with your arsehole?” He said, slipping his free hand down to Hikaru’s butt cheek.  
Hikaru had never really enjoyed being the receiving party in anal sex, but he did enjoy a little gentle anal play now and then. “Okay... Yeah... But not inside, yeah?”  
“Sure.”  
Pavel’s fingers dipped between his cheeks, and Hikaru’s knees buckled when they brushed over his hole. “Oh Gad, Pav. I can hardly stand,” he panted.  
Pavel wrapped his leg around Hikaru’s leg, bracing him between his torso pressing against Hikaru’s back and his calf against his shin. Between Pavel’s body and his hand leaning against the wall, Hikaru had enough support to keep him upright while Pavel pulled his orgasm out of him, pumping his cock with one hand whilst circling two fingers of the other around the opening of his arsehole. Hikaru came with a loud wail, spilling over Pavel’s hand and onto the tiled wall. He staggered back against Pavel, who caught him and lowered gently to sit on the floor.   
“Fuck me,” Hikaru breathed once he’d regained his composure.  
“I just did.” Pavel lounged against the opposite wall, idly soaping his chest.  
Once he trusted his legs to support him once more Hikaru heaved himself up from the floor and got out of the shower, leaving Pavel to wash. 

Hikaru was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when Pavel emerged from the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his waist and rubbing his hair dry with another.  
“Pav, c’mere.” Hikaru patted the duvet.   
Pavel sat and Hikaru wrapped an arm around him and kissed his forehead and cheek. “Your sister wants to take me to the park. Will you come too?” He asked.  
Pavel looked down at his lap. “No, I have something to do.”  
“Oh?” Pavel didn’t elaborate further, so Hikaru dropped it. He kissed Pavel again. “That’s not til ten,”—another kiss to Pavel’s cheek—“so we have plenty of time,”—a kiss on the tip of his nose—“and I’d love to give you head again.” Hikaru ducked his head and finished with a kiss to the divot of Pavel’s collarbone.  
Pavel returned the kiss on the top of Hikaru’s head. “That would be nice,” he said into his hair, “but let me get dressed a bit first.”  
Hikaru averted his eyes while Pavel pulled on a tank top and his binder over the top. He understood that Pavel’s walking naked into the shower earlier was a huge demonstration of vulnerability and trust, and he really didn’t want to give him any cause to regret that. 

When Pavel was ready he sat back against the pillows. “Can we just kiss a bit first?” He asked.  
“Of course.” Hikaru scooted up the bed to sit beside him. He kissed his friend, a long, open-mouthed kiss which Pavel returned with enthusiasm. He ran his hand down the Russian’s flank, coming to rest on his hip. Pavel’s skin was still damp from the shower and felt ever so slightly tacky against his palm. “This okay?” He asked.  
“Mmm, yes. Very nice,” Pavel said against his lips.  
Hikaru slid his hand round to the front of Pavel’s pelvis. “And this? Is this okay too?” Pavel rolled his hips in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Pavel grabbed Hikaru’s wrist and shoved his hand against his crotch, grinding against it. “ _Definitely_ a ‘yes’,” Hikaru smirked against his lips.  
“Oh, please, Karu. Please. Touch me,” begged Pavel.  
“Of course I’ll touch you, Pav.” Hikaru pressed his fingertips against Pavel’s crotch until he found his friend’s penis, already erect and standing proud of his labia.   
“After you got out the shower I touched myself for a bit,” Pavel said.  
Hikaru could picture it in his mind: _Pavel leaning against the tiles, legs spread and knees slightly bent, one hand between his legs, head lolling back against the wall..._ “Yeah?” He said, softly.  
“Yeah, it was nice.”  
“Nice, like I’m touching you now?”   
“Yeah, but a different nice, y’know?”  
“I know.” Hikaru went in for another kiss.  
When they broke for air, Pavel said, “Karu, will you use your mouth on me now?”  
“I’d love to.”   
There was a short hiatus while they rearranged themselves on the bed with Hikaru lying on his front between Pavel’s legs. _This is certainly more comfortable than the back of the car_ , he reflected. He gave Pavel’s inner thigh a kiss. Pavel squirmed always from the touch. “That tickles,” he complained.  
“Sorry.” Hikaru slid his hands under Pavel’s legs and turned his attention to his crotch. He pressed a kiss to the mound of dark hair. “Is that better?” He asked.  
“Ungh. Yes.” Pavel clutched at the hair at the nape of Hikaru’s neck.  
Hikaru licked up the seam of his labia, enjoying the way Pavel squirmed in response. _Oh God, that was good_. He did it again and Pavel moaned and rutted against his face. “Hold on,” he murmured. “Pass me that lube.”   
The bottle they’d used last night still sat on top of the headboard. Pavel reached behind his head and groped for it, fingers closing around it, and passed it over.  
Hikaru poured a little lube into his hand, checked the lid was closed, and tossed the bottle aside on the sheets. He closed his fist so that the liquid would lose its chill before it came into contact with Pavel’s skin.  
Pavel gasped when Hikaru slid a slick finger over his dick. “Oh, oh! Karu!”  
Hikaru hummed his approval and pressed his mouth to the tip of Pavel’s dick, leaving it with his tongue. The lube certainly helped reduce the friction. He alternate licking and rubbing circles on and around Pavel’s dick with his tongue and fingers, while Pavel moaned and fisted his hand in the sheet, bucking his hips into Hikaru’s face and hand. Hikaru felt the familiar calm he often felt during mutually-enjoyable oral sex come over him. He focused his attention on the gentle scrape of Pavel’s hair against his lips and chin; the lapping of his tongue over Pavel’s dick; the contrasting textures; the taste, until the world became thinner and thinner, just a narrow gap where everything was the points where he and Pavel intersected, and nothing else.   
Pavel moaned, his fingers scrabbling for purchase in Hikaru’s short hair, pushing his face harder against his crotch.   
“Go on,” Hikaru tried to say, but it came out as an unintelligible mumble around his friend’s dick. He pulled back and replaced his mouth with his fingers. “Go on,” he repeated, looking up at Pavel in time to catch the exquisite expression on his face as he came against his hand.   
“Oh, oh.” Pavel grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face. “Mmf,” he grunted.  
“You okay?” Hikaru crawled back up the bed, lay down beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders.  
“I’m fine,” Pavel said into the pillow, but didn’t remove it from his face.  
Hikaru waited for him to finish calming down.  
Eventually Pavel lifted the corner of the pillow and grinned at his friend. “Karu,” he said.  
“Yeah?”  
“Mmm, just...” Pavel threw the pillow aside. His cheeks were flushed and his wet hair was tousled into a tangled birds’ nest. “You’re cute.”  
“Well, thank you.” Hikaru felt a glow inside his chest. He kissed Pavel tenderly.  
When he pulled away Pavel grinned at him and said, “You taste of me.”

Piotr and Aleksandr were merrily engaged in hand-to-hand combat in the back seat of Ekaterina’s estate car. Hikaru, sitting in the front passenger seat watched their reflection in the wing mirror. Aleksei, the smaller one, was especially talented—or was it a skill he’d developed through years of practice?—at dodging punches. Hikaru wondered how they’d handle foils.   
“Boys, will you stop it!” Katya admonished.  
The children grudging reigned it in a bit. At least until they arrived at the park, where they immediately shot out of the car in search of sticks to beat each other with.  
“Do they ever stay still?” Hikaru asked, as he and Katya strolled down a wide footpath, the children rushing ahead.  
“Only when they’re asleep,” she replied.  
They walked in silence for a bit, then Hikaru said, “Your family are all very friendly, Katya. I feel very welcome here.”  
Katya touched his arm lightly. “Well, you are practically part of the family.”  
Hikaru stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m _what_?”  
“Alright, you’re not married yet, but as far as I’m concerned if you’re engaged to my little brother then you’re _my_ brother.” Katya grinned widely at him.  
Hikaru stared at her, open-mouthed.  
“What?” Katya said. Her grin had been replaced by a look of concern.  
“Can you say that last bit again, please?” Hikaru said quietly.  
“The bit about you being my brother?”  
“No, the bit before that.” Hikaru felt like his legs were going to collapse under him.  
“The bit about you being engaged to Pasha?”  
“Yeah, that.” Hikaru clutched at the sleeve of Katya’s jacket for support. “Katya, what the hell is going on?”  
Katya stared at him then said slowly, “Hikaru, let’s go and sit down.” Hikaru let her lead him by the hand over to a bench.  
“Right,” Hikaru said, once they were sitting and he had taken a few deep breaths. “You think Pavel and I are engaged?”  
Katya looked at him sharply. “You’re not?”  
“No.” Hikaru pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “No, we’re not. We’ve been flatmates the last couple of years and friends before that, but no.”  
“Oh.” Piotr chose that moment to come bounding over carrying a sizeable rock. “Petya, go and play with your brother,” Katya said quickly. He dropped the rock at Hikaru’s feet and ran off again. She turned to Hikaru. “You’re friends,” she said.  
“Yeah... No... Maybe?” Hikaru didn’t really know himself what they were to each other now. “It’s complicated,” he shrugged.  
“Ohhhhh.”  
Hikaru could virtually see the gears grinding in Katya’s head. “We were definitely friends when we left London, but now...?” He trailed off.  
“Some stuff happened on the journey and you’re still working things out, right?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Well, shit,” said Katya.  
“Yeah,” Hikaru repeated. _well, shit_ summarised it perfectly.  
“You didn’t realise my parents were discussing your wedding over dinner last night?”  
“What? No, I most definitely did not.” This was getting worse by the minute.  
“It’s okay,” Katya grinned mischievously, “Pasha beat them down from a church to a registry office.”  
“He _knew_?” Hikaru silent cursed the language barrier. “He never said anything.”  
“In his defence our parents can be very overbearing. He hardly got a word in.”  
“I’ll kill him,” Hikaru said vehemently.  
“Hey,” Katya grabbed his arm. “If we hurry back we might catch them grilling Pasha about you.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah, they asked me to take you out so they could have a talk.”  
“Oh Jeez. No.” Hikaru couldn’t face Pavel’s parents just now. “Let’s wait a bit. I want to catch Pav on his own first.” Katya nodded. “I _will_ kill him,” he repeated.  
Katya got up from the bench and offered a Hikaru her hand. “Hey, come on. Let’s find the kids and go and get ice cream.”

“Where is he?” Hikaru stormed through the house with Katya and Irina—who had appear out of nowhere as soon they set foot over the threshold at the front door—following in his wake. Piotr and Aleksandr had disappeared off upstairs.  
“Try the drawing room,” Irina offered, clearly enjoying themselves.  
“Irinka...” Katya warned.  
Hikaru pushed the door open and stuck his head round it. Pavel was curled in a basket chair at the far end of the room, reading.  
“ _You_!” He advanced on his friend with a thunderous look on his face.  
Pavel looked up from his book. “Uh... Hi? he said uncertainly.  
Hikaru could hear Katya quietly cajoling Irina out of the room behind him. The door closed with a click. He stood opposite Pavel and put his hands on his hips. “ _Fiancé_ ,” he said accusingly.  
Pavel’s face paled. “Oh, no....”   
“Oh _yes_.” Hikaru’s anger cooled a little at seeing Pavel so mortified. He sat down in a nearby armchair. “Can you tell me what happened? From the start,” he asked.  
“Karu, I’m sorry.” Pavel looked like he was going to cry. “My parents assumed and I tried to correct them, but they weren’t listening, and I—I was going to tell you, but—“ He was crying properly now.  
“Hey,” Hikaru said gently. He got up for the chair and sat on the floor by Pavel’s feet. He took Pavel’s hand in his.  
Pavel wiped his hand across his cheek. “It just kept getting worse,” he sniffled.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Hikaru said. “It’s just a misunderstanding. A horrible, huge, messy misunderstanding, but only a misunderstanding, yeah?”  
Pavel sniffed and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.  
“Shh,” Hikaru hushed him. “You already apologised. “But look, if this—whatever _this_ is—“ he waved a hand in the space between them, “—is going to work, then you have to tell me what’s going on, yeah? Just remember I can’t understand Russian.” Pavel mumbled in the affirmative. Hikaru stood up, pulling his friend up with him. They embraced.  
“Sorry,” Pavel said again.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay...” Hikaru stroked his back soothingly.  
“I do like you a lot. _Really_ a lot,” said Pavel.  
“I like you a hell of a lot too, Pav. But we’re not getting married, okay?” Pavel gave a little snort of laughter. Hikaru pulled back to look at his face. “At least, not any time soon, baby,” he added.  
Pavel pressed his face in Hikaru’s shoulder, mumbling something Hikaru didn’t catch. “Hey. Hey, what’s up?” He tried to get Pavel to look at him, but he kept his face resolutely pressed against Hikaru’s shirt. “What’s up?” He repeated, softer.  
“You called me ‘baby’,” Pavel said into his shirt.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. Is that okay?”  
Pavel straightened up and met Hikaru’s eyes with his own. “It’s very okay,” he said, blushing redder still.  
“Oh God, come here.” Hikaru pulled him into a long, urgent, open-mouthed kiss.

Hikaru perched on the edge of the middle seat of a three-seat sofa in the drawing room, nervously jiggling his leg and watching Pavel pace up-and-down the same two-metre stretch of carpet, muttering to himself.  
“Pav, would you please sit down?” He said. Pavel’s agitation was exacerbating his own.  
“I can’t. I’m too anxious,” Pavel replied.  
“Sorry. I just wish they’d hurry up.”  
The door opened and Katya strode in. She went straight to the drinks cabinet and poured three shots of vodka. “Here, it’ll help,” she said when she saw Hikaru’s cautious expression.  
There was a part of Hikaru that had detached itself from the rest of him, which was now dispassionately observing at a distance as events unfolded. _It’ll make little difference if we endure whatever’s about to happen drunk or sober_ , it reasoned. He downed the shot, wincing at the burn as it hit his throat. Pavel and Katya downed theirs, and— _finally_ —Pavel took a seat beside Hikaru.  
Aleksandr and Piotr bundled in, followed by various relatives who apparently just _happened_ to have dropped by, making themselves comfortable on the numerous sofas and armchairs. Aleksei lay on the floor in the middle of the room, repeatedly throwing a cushion in the air and catching it. Hikaru felt a strong compulsion to join him. Lastly Pavel’s parents entered, with Irina following close on their heels.  
Irina flopped down in the remaining empty space on the sofa and gave Hikaru a cheery “Hey, bro,” along with a wink and an elbow to the ribs. Hikaru glared at them and Pavel lent over him to swat at their hand. “Sorry. Too soon?” They said.  
“ _Way_ too soon,” said Hikaru.

Once everyone was settled and quiet Pavel began his valiant attempt at clearing up the big misunderstanding. He addressed his parents in English with pauses for Andrei to translate for his wife.  
“Look, I need to clear something things up,” he said, twisting his hands in his lap as he spoke. “Everyone’s been very nice and welcoming to Hikaru, who is a very dear _friend_ ,”—Hikaru noted the special emphasis on _friend_ —“but the thing is...” Pavel paused and glanced over at Hikaru, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. “The thing is, we’re not engaged.”  
There was a brief hiatus while Andrei translated. Larisa’s expression went from _neutral_ to _concerned_ as she listened.  
“I’m so sorry.” —That was an aunt, maybe. Hikaru wasn’t one hundred percent sure, and he couldn’t remember her name.  
“No, we didn’t break it off,” Pavel clarified. “We never were engaged in the first place. In fact—“ The room erupted into chatter, with everyone shouting questions and opinions over each other. Pavel held up a hand for quiet, then continued in Russian.  
Hikaru felt his shoulders slump involuntarily. He heaved a deep sigh. He was being left out of the loop again.  
Irina leaned close to him. “He’s saying you are friends...” she murmured, “...That you have been for several years... that started to be... something else—he doesn’t have a word for it... but it’s very new and you are still working out what that is.”  
“Thanks,” Hikaru said quietly.  
There was a short, murmured exchange between Larisa and Andrei, then Andrei stood and walked over to Hikaru, stopping opposite him. Hikaru stood too.   
“Andrei Dimitrievich,” he said. He hoped he’d got the level of formality correct. Perhaps he should have gone with “Mister Chekov” instead.  
Andrei looked at him gravely. “Hikaru, on behalf of my wife, my family and myself, I must apologise,” he said. “You are a guest in our home and our behaviour must have made you very uncomfortable.”  
“It’s fine, I—“ Hikaru stammered. Andrei was considerably taller than he was, and standing very close. He really wanted to take a couple of steps back, but the sofa behind him prevented him from doing so.  
Andrei appeared not to hear him and continued with his speech. Hikaru could see how Pavel—talkative as he was—found it difficult to assert himself around his parents. “I hope that despite this unfortunate misunderstanding you will continue to feel welcome in our home.”  
Hikaru nodded and mumbled “Yes, thank you.”   
Andrei turned his attention to Pavel and put a hand on his shoulder. “Pasha, we have wronged you. We don’t listen to you as much as we should. We are sorry.”  
Pavel grinned up at him, “It’s fine, Papa,” he said.  
Hikaru felt the tension drain out of the room as everyone breathed out a breath they hadn’t been aware they had been holding. Larisa got up, said something in Russian and left the room.  
“She’s gone to cancel the caterer for your engagement party,” Irina said.  
“Oh God...” Hikaru sat down and put his head in his hands.

That night Hikaru lay in bed, his head resting on Pavel’s chest. “I need to book my flight,” he said.  
Pavel stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. “Do you have to?” He asked.  
“I can’t stay here forever.”  
“You could.”  
It was tempting. It really was. But his parents were expecting him home and he really needed to find a job and an apartment. And his visa was only for a month anyway. “Pav, I really must.”  
“Stay a couple of weeks?”  
Hikaru mulled it over for a while. “If it’s alright with your parents,” he said eventually.  
“It will be. People wander in and out of this house all the time. They barely notice.”  
“Still, I want to ask.”  
“Okay, we ask them in the morning.”  
“Yeah, okay. And I’ll call my folks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more proper chapter and an epilogue to go! The adventure nears its conclusion! Will any of the reader's burning questions be answered? Who knows? Stay tuned to find out!


	11. Day 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru considers his job prospects and Pavel picks out some clothes for his first day at work.

**Day 11: Still in Moscow**

“You could just move here,” said Pavel.  
“Or you could move to San Fran,” Hikaru countered. “Your job prospects there would be much better than mine are here. For one thing, you speak the language.”  
The conversation was accompanied by birdsong as the two friends ambled round the garden at the back of the house, soaking up the mid-morning sun.  
“Papa fixed a job for me. Family business. It’s expected.” Pavel shrugged apologetically.  
“What kind of job is this, anyway?” Hikaru asked.  
“Y’know.” Pavel waved a hand airily. “Executive.”  
“That’s not very informative,” Hikaru said. “Never mind. I don’t rate the local job prospects of an American plant biologist who can’t speak Russian, do you?”  
“Ach,” Pavel grunted dismissively like the language barrier and Hikaru’s specialism were no obstacle at all. “Papa has a friend owns biotech company. Maybe he can help.”  
“Sure, it’ll feel great to be indebted to your family.”  
“It’s not a big deal,” Pavel protested.  
“It is,” Hikaru said firmly. “But they’ll have a website, right? Maybe we can see if they’re advertising vacancies.” Hikaru couldn’t quite believe he was seriously entertaining the possibility.  
Pavel’s face lit up. “Okay! Let’s go inside and check.”  
Hikaru followed him into the house. “And I’ll have to learn Russian,” he said.  
“I’ll help you,” Pavel said. “Anyway, you already know all the words to _Kalinka_.”  
Hikaru laughed. “Isn’t Russian one of the hardest languages to learn?”  
“Nonsense. You’ll be fluent in no time.”

There were three vacancies listed on the website. One was actually a role Hikaru thought he stood a good chance of getting. He felt pretty encouraged by the fact that the website had versions in Russian, French and English. He made a few notes on a scrap of paper then closed the laptop. He turned to a Pavel. “I’m going to call my parents, okay?”

After lunch Pavel pulled all the clothes out of his wardrobe and dumped them on the bed while Hikaru looked on in mild horror at the chaos.  
“You have to help me pick outfits for work,” Pavel said.  
“Alright,” Hikaru sighed wearily. He recognised the look Pavel got whenever he’d decided to do something and nothing was going to distract him from it until the task was complete. He eyed the mountain of tangled clothes. “Who don’t you put something on and we’ll see how it looks?” He said.  
Pavel rummaged through the heap and pulled out a shirt, cardigan and pair of smart slacks. Hikaru sat down in an armchair and waited while Pavel changed into them. “Hmm,” he said when Pavel was finished and standing opposite him. Hikaru searched for a way to tell his friend—politely—that he looked like a haunted doll. “The cardigan’s nice,” he began. _Good. Start with the positives_ , he said to himself. And it was nice; the dusky pink really suited Pavel, and the fit was good too. “But that shirt...” Hikaru tried and failed to suppress a laugh. It wasn’t the shirt itself, which was an inoffensive shade of brown, but the wide, white Peter Pan collar.  
“I like this shirt,” Pavel protested.  
“It’s just a bit...” Hikaru shook his head slowly. “Look, I’m not sure it’s really you.”  
“Okay.” Pavel sounded reluctant. “I’ll see if there’s another shirt.” He dove back into the pile.  
“What’s that?” Hikaru spotted a blue sleeve protruding from the mess.  
“This?” Pavel pulled on the sleeve and out came a navy blue dress shirt. Katya bought it for me last Christmas. I’ve never worn it.”  
“Yeah, I think that could be good.” The shirt was badly creased, but Hikaru saw potential in it.  
Pavel unbuttoned the brown monstrosity, took it off, and replaced it with the crumpled blue shirt.  
“Okay, but tuck it in,” Hikaru said, “and do you have a tie?”  
Pavel pulled several ties out of the heap and tossed them over. Hikaru smoothed them out side-by-side over his knee. One was so badly creased as to be unsalvageable. He tossed it on the floor. There was a lurid mustard-and-lime-green one that shouldn’t be allowed ever—he threw that on the floor too.  
“I wore that at my confirmation,” Pavel supplied.  
“Is there a photo?” Hikaru immediately regretted asking. It would no doubt be hideous.  
“There’s one in Papa’s study. I’ll show you later,” said Pavel. “It was the first big occasion after I started presenting as a boy,” he added.  
Hikaru made a mental note to mention how smart Pavel looked in the photo, regardless of how much of a mess his outfit might be. He turned his attention back to the remaining ties. _The black one would be too dark against the shirt_ , he reasoned, _but this pink one..._ It was a brighter pink than the cardigan. Not quite a hot pink, more of a fuchsia. _Yes, that would do nicely..._. He held the tie out to Pavel. “Here, try this one.”  
Pavel knotted the tie with some difficulty. “What do you think?” He asked.  
Hikaru looked at him. The tie’s tail hung a few inches below the front. “I’m going to have to show you how to tie a double Windsor, but the colour’s good though,” he said.  
“I need a jacket,” said Pavel. He pulled one out of the pile and held it up. “I think this is too small.”  
“Try that cardigan again,” Hikaru suggested. Pavel put it on. “Okay, now go and look in the mirror.”  
Pavel stood opposite the large mirror mounted on the wardrobe door. Hikaru came and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at Pavel’s reflection.  
“It’s good,” said Pavel, running his hand down the front of the cardigan.  
“Yeah,” Hikaru agreed. “If you iron the shirt,” he added. He slipped his arms round Pavel’s waist and kissed the side of his neck, just above his shirt collar.  
“You think it’s okay for office?” Pavel asked.  
“It’s a bit on the casual side—You should get a proper jacket that fits—but is dress-down Friday a thing in Russia?”  
“I don’t know, I’ve never had a job before,” Pavel admitted.  
_Why isn’t that a surprise?_ Hikaru suppressed the spiteful thought as soon as he thought it. It wasn’t really Pavel’s fault he’d been hopelessly coddled and cared for by his rich parents. “Okay, well if it is then you’re all set,” he said aloud.  
“I’ll go to Papa’s tailor and get a jacket,” Pavel said.  
“Yeah, and maybe a few more shirts, too?”  
Pavel turned to the heap of clothes on the bed. “Thanks, Karu,” he said.  
“Any time, baby,” Hikaru said. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the top of the pile and slipped them onto a hanger. “When we’ve put this away, will you help me book my flight?” He asked.  
Pavel nodded. “Sure.”

Pavel and Hikaru sat side-by-side at the computer, bickering over the dates of Hikaru’s flights.  
Hikaru jabbed his finger at the screen. “That’s it. The seventh to the twenty-ninth,” he said.  
“But you’ll miss my birthday,” Pavel complained.  
Hikaru put a conciliatory hand on Pavel’s thigh. “Pav, if I do end up moving here—and I really do hope I can sort things out with the visa and a job—then I won’t be seeing my family very often. It’s only three weeks.” Pavel frowned petulantly, unwilling to relinquish Hikaru for a whole three weeks. Hikaru leaned in and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “I promise we’ll have many birthdays together,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is nearly over. Just a little epilogue to go. Thanks for reading along and I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of Hikaru and Pavel’s lives seventeen years on.

**Epilogue: Moscow, August 2021**

It’s a bright, sunny morning. Two men walk arm-in-arm along a street bustling with commuters in central Moscow. One wears a business suit; the other jeans and a button-down shirt. They are engaged in conversation. The man in the jeans speaks fluently, but with a thick American accent. They come to a halt at the entrance to a tall, glass office building.   
“I’ll pick you up, yeah?” The man in the jeans says, in English. “Three o’clock. Be ready, _please_.”  
“Of course I’ll be ready,” the man in the suit assures him.  
They kiss each other’s lips, briefly.  
“Happy birthday, baby,” the man in the jeans says as the one in the suit turns to go into the office building. The man in the suit turns back briefly and smiles.  
The man in the jeans continues down the street to his own place of work.

Later that day, the man in the jeans hurries into the glass office building. He looks flustered.   
“Good afternoon, Mister Sulu,” the receptionist greets him and slides a lanyard across the desk. “Mister Chekov is in his office.”   
The man in the jeans takes the lanyard with a nod of thanks and the receptionist lets him through the security gate. He takes the lift. He knocks on a glass door on one of the upper floors.  
The man in the suit looks up from his computer and puts his hand to his forehead. “Karu, I forgot! I’m so sorry!” He says as the man in the jeans enters.  
“It’s okay, Pav. But please, let’s go,” says the man in the jeans. He grabs the man in the suit’s hand and gently pulls him out from behind the desk.   
The man in the suit locks his computer as he is being dragged away.

Outside, the two men bundle into the man in the jeans’ car, which is a lovingly-restored red Peugeot 205.   
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the man in the suit fusses. “Have I made us late?”  
“No, we should be on-time. Just give my parents a call, would you? Tell them to wait in the arrivals hall.”  
The man in the jeans starts the car. The man in the suit fishes in his pocket for his phone. The man in the jeans pushes a cassette in to the tape deck and _Kalinka_ plays softly from the car’s speakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my spouse for beta reading. I think it was waaaay harder than he thought it would be! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the ride.


End file.
